Renaissance of Destruction
by mobius20
Summary: A conspriacy unfolds to extinguish the last of the Core presence
1. Default Chapter

Renaissance of Destruction  
  
Brian Morgan Jr.  
  
For, Brian Morgan Sr. He was more than my father, he was my friend. I can never repay him for what he has done for me. I owe him everything.  
  
Part 1  
  
Postbellumary Totalitarianism  
  
I feel the snake crawl across the sand I can see the rain fall on the land. If we feel the snake, and see the rain, why can't we taste our pain? Is it because we cannot taste it? Or are we too afraid to taste it, because we know the flavor. It is one we do not wish to savor. -Whispers on the Breeze  
  
From death you cannot hide. Only time you can bide. -Whispers on the Breeze.  
  
A happy little home in a quaint little suburban town encompassed by a field of green grass. Sky a pristine blue, the sun bathing the ground in its warm light. Birds singing songs to their mates or warnings to their enemies, irrelevant which, both are as beautiful and pleasing to the ear as the beating of waves on a sandy shore in the gaze of a sunset. For Emily Ham, life is good, with her loving husband, Paul, ever faithfully at her side. Twice they brought forth life. The first was a girl, and they named her Helen. Three years later they were blessed with a boy, Chris. Even at thirty, Emily looks a decade younger. Her blonde hair was always kept back within a ponytail. The crystalline blue of her eyes was what made her mask of youth more prominent. Even though she looked only twenty, there are times when she feels like she's fifty. The injury to her leg during the Battle of Cocytus was traumatic to her. She would never be able to walk right again, nor could she engage in too much physical activity. The only evidence of the affliction is a thin scar on her right leg running from just above her kneecap, nine inches, almost in line with her femur, which was severely damaged too. Also, on the backside of the same leg, a smaller scar only two inches in length, running in conjunction with the larger, sister scar. Often, she played off the injury like it was nothing. She would play with the kids when they wanted, never revealing the agony she endured after only a few minutes. Days have gone by when the simple act of stretching her leg out became a journey into the world of misery. Nonetheless, she lives her life the way she wants to, and not to let it be governed by her leg. Despite her strong willpower to block out the pain, she always keeps a bottle of powerful painkillers in the medicine cabinet, just beyond the children's reach. Neither Paul nor Emily worked after they left the military. The compensation Emily received from her injury was more than enough to support them. Only a small portion of the wounded received compensation. In order to qualify, they have to prove they could not work to gain an income. For Emily, that was easy. Their neighborhood was on the outskirts of the port city of Wavel the smallest big city on Deneb. It was a small suburbanite community where everyone new everyone. Their home was perched partly inside a hillside, which helped it keep cool in the summer months. All of the houses on that block were structurally identical, with the exception of closets, windows, and doorways. The front door led into a short foyer. Then it exploded into the larger kitchen and dinning room. The right side of that combined room was open to the living room, which was quite large, about twenty feet to a side. The stairs leading upstairs spiraled up just off to the right of the opening aforementioned. The upper foyer was a small hallway with four doors along its length. From the first door on they were, the master bedroom, which was rather spacious and had its own bathroom, another bedroom, then another bathroom, and finally a third bedroom.  
  
Louis felt like he was king of the world when he flew a jet. The world seemed to be at his fingertips. He felt like he was a god, or at least as close as a man could become. All his worries seemed to fall from him when he sat in that cockpit. But he knew this was serious work. Right now, he is a test pilot, but he is trained extensively in every part of the military, he could gather data, analyze data, perform reconnaissance mission deep in enemy territory, he could do it all. He was not the only one. Every member of ADIT was capable of performing every task that could be placed before them. Testing new aircraft was fun to Louis, although he knew the engine could burn out, or the electric system could short circuit and send him hurtling towards the earth. But he didn't care, he felt free when he was flying. The aircraft he was testing was an aerial transport. Although it lacked the speed of the interceptors he occasionally tested, it still gave him a feeling of freedom. The Hercules was an aircraft designed to move a large amount of units over stubborn terrain. With a capacity of twenty-four, it moved more than the ancient Hulk for almost one half the cost. It was a magnificent piece of machinery. If the Machines ever became activated, they could produce an unimaginable amount of units with lightning speed. So the Arm used every available resource to develop frighteningly deadly units to conquer the possible threat. The tactic was to use quality to defeat quantity. It proved effective at the Battle of Cocytus where the Arm was outnumbered three to one, but if the Machines ever activated, the odds wouldn't be nearly that good. They would be closer to fifty to one, and that was looking optimistic. But these thoughts never crossed Louis' mind when he was flying. It was as if he had transcended the problems of life. He finished his circle and returned home. At the hanger, which was built into a mountainside to conceal it from possible wanderers and invaders, Louis climbed down the ladder from the giant aircraft's cockpit and he saw Elise preparing for a test flight of her own. He didn't know what the craft was that she was testing but he did know that she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. From her dark auburn hair to her long legs, she was perfect. Even in her unflattering flight suit Louis could see every flawless curve of her body, and his breath caught in his tightening chest. He tried to gather the courage to ask her out but he never could. He could talk to her, but every time he tried to ask her out he was transformed from an articulate speaker to a stuttering fool. Nobody has ever affected him that strongly. Then as soon as he had been able to get back under control of his breathing, his chance disappeared. Elise entered her test craft, a new high-speed tank. Disappointed with himself, Louis reported the matters of his test flight to the Deck Chief. Still shunning himself from his blundered opportunity he changed into his regular uniform in the locker room. Next time, he told himself, next time.  
  
Chris hated school. He didn't see the point in somebody teaching him things he already knows. He didn't hate every class he enjoyed the creative writing class. He loved to make stories. He was good at it, even the teachers were very impressed. His newest creation was one called "Finding Eden." It was about a group of astronauts searching for lost artifacts that once combined would show the location of Eden. It was science fiction, which was his favorite genre. "Finding Eden" was very different from Chris's other stories. For one, it was very long, over thirty pages, while the rest of his writings were only nine, eleven at most. Another dissimilarity was the fact that it had a sad ending. The astronauts were on the seventh and final planet and their treacherous comrades killed them all in an attempt to be the ones to find Eden first. But in doing so, they shattered all of the artifacts and lost all hope of realizing their dream. He finished telling the story in front of the class. Every one of his classmates was moved by his story. Applause echoed off the concrete walls. Chris was always a little embarrassed when one of his story-telling feats went well. He had gotten a little used to the adulation but he was not fully accustomed to this type of reaction. He sat down and the applause halted abruptly stopped when the bell rang. The students rapidly gathered their books and pencils and sped for the door. Mrs. Grant was shouting their homework assignment as they ran for the door. "I want you to bring in some ideas on paper for tomorrow for another short story!" She shouted over the roar of footsteps not sure if all of the students heard her. It was time to go home. Chris didn't stop at his locker, because he didn't have any homework other than the assignment hastily given from Mrs. Grant. Outside, his dad would be waiting to pick him and his sister up and take them home. Chris exited the building and immediately saw his dad's hover-car and ran to it. He climbed inside. The radio was playing music imported from Earth. What a strange planet it was. They still used fossil fuels instead of electron accelerators for locomotion and other such ancient methods. But soon all that would change, AGE was bringing them the technology that would help them advance. If he could remember right, Chris thought the Earth people's year was 2010. His father was bobbing his head in time to the music that pulsed from the speakers inside the vehicle. It was one of Chris's favorites, "Black Dog" by.he strained to remember the band name. Then it came to him, Led Zeppelin, odd name for a band. When the men came back to Empyreon with the news that they had discovered intelligent life at the extreme edge of our galaxy, every one was ecstatic. One of the first things to come over was music, because the art of music was lost in the several millennia of war that had consumed this section of the galaxy, it was a good change of pace. The next startling fact came. The Earth people were identical, down to every cellular structure and biological function, perfectly identical to the Arm people. That revelation destroyed most of the clergy. Talking over the music Chris's dad said, "How was school?" "Creative writing was fun!" Chris said with a sort of jovialness. "My class really liked 'Finding Eden!" His dad read all of his stories the night before he handed them in for grading. By far "Finding Eden" was his best by light years. "That's great!" He wasn't surprised, he thoroughly enjoyed the story. The song ended, and another came on immediately afterwards. Chris recognized it immediately, "The World I Know" by Collective Soul. The change in the mood of the music was drastic, from the heavy rock chords of "Black Dog" to the beautifully orchestrated smoothness of "The World I Know." "Daddy?" Chris said inquisitively. "Yes." "Why are the Earth people so similar to us?" Chris was still confused about how they were identical to them. "I don't know." He said honestly, though he was slightly confused where that thought derived from, but made no attempt to pursue its beginnings. "Oh." Chris said, somewhat disappointed. He said nothing further about the subject. Helen appeared through the mass of children leaving the school. She rushed to the door Paul opened for her and she climbed in. Paul pulled out of the busy parking lot and drove the short distance to their home. The drive was very relaxing. Deciduous trees lined the road. The branches spanned over the entire street at times making it a sort of tunnel. He made the turn on to the road in which their home was located. He pulled up and parked in the attached garage. Inside, Chris went straight to work on his homework like he always does. Helen shot up the steps and into her room at the end of the hall. She changed into clothes that were suitable for playing outside in. "I'm going to go play outside." She told her parents and took off through the door before they could pass judgment on the situation and maybe tell her no. Sitting in the velvety soft armchair, Emily was flipping through the channels on the holo-set, a three dimensional version of what the Earthlings called television. Nothing was on. She turned it off and walked towards Paul who was rummaging through the refrigerator. She wrapped his arms around him from behind and rested her head on his back. "Why is it we always buy enough food for an entire army division and when I want to munch something we never have anything?" He said partly with disgust. "We have two growing kids remember." She said lovingly. Turning in her gentle grasp, he picked her up by the waist carefully not jarring her leg. Holding her chest high he said, "Well at least I have you to munch on." A smile drew across his face. He pretended to nibble on her chest. "Save that thought for tonight." She said into his eyes with a laugh. She kissed him tenderly on the lips. He held her close, prolonging the kiss as long as he could. Then from the other room Chris called to him seeking help. Paul gently set Emily down, his face had a look on it that seemed to scream sarcastically, 'good timing.' The phone rang. It was as if there were cosmic forces trying to stop them from having a moment's peace. Emily went off to answer it. "Let's just run away from here." Paul proposed satirically. "Can't, remember, little ones." "Well we can just tie them up in the basement with food and water until we get back." He said jokingly. "Daddy." Chris called again. On the phone it was Mrs. Grant, Emily knew her from parent-teacher night. "Mrs. Ham?" The elderly woman said in a sweet voice. "Yes." "This is Mrs. Grant from Chris's creative writing class." "Yes?" "I would like to place Chris's newest story in a regional competition, that is if you say it's okay." Delighted Emily quickly responded. "Of course!" "Thank you. Bye." "Bye." She hung up. She went over to Chris, who was diligently working on his homework, and told him the news. "I knew you could do it!" Paul said while he rubbed the boys head, mussing his hair.  
  
2  
  
Weapons testing was always done with fakes that simulated the real experience. Louis was testing the weapons systems of a new fighter that had made it past the other grueling examinations. The weapons were of old design but of new technology. The main weapon was an accelerated EMG cannon. It shot accelerated bolts of energy towards the target but this one had minor explosive impacts. The secondary weapon was an anti-tank rocket that flew at over two thousand meters per second. The tip was on a timer setting to detonate a split second after it punctured the targets armor. Flying at top speed he raced along the canyon walls, the rock sides just a blur. Making hairpin turns at break neck speeds he knew that a single wrong move could send him hurtling into oblivion. His target was a remote controlled anti-air missile launcher. According to the computer, it was just two seconds ahead of him. Then he saw it, a large blocky object, about the size of a Core Thud. He pulled left then right, so the thing couldn't lock onto him. He fired the anti-tank rocket. With a whoosh, the rocket rapidly accelerated to its flight speed. Then Louis felt something he shouldn't have. The entire aircraft shot downwards several feet, with the nose pointing downwards. He felt his stomach shoot into his throat on the sudden plunge. Realizing he was headed into solid rock, he yanked back on the controls, attempting to level out the craft. As if someone had wanted everything to wrong at once, the electric system failed. The jet began to yaw. Louis tried everything he could think of to start the engine again, including punching the control panel. With no other choice remaining, he pulled the ejector seat, which was on its own circuits for situations like this. An opening appeared above him and his seat jettisoned out of the hole. He could see the jet fly a few hundred yards before it slammed into a rock that sent it spinning like a top through the air. A fiery top with no other mission than to destroy itself on the ground. His chute opened and he began to float safely to the ground. Meanwhile, the fighter was still rotating when it struck the mountainside with enough force to push him back even though he was a good distance away from it. The explosion was huge. Amber light spilled over the entire canyon, filling every crevice with its fierce glow. Louis knew that he would have been killed in that crash if he stayed with the jet. There would have been nothing left of his body. He sat down a few hundred yards away from the burning wreckage, so as to not get burned, and waited for the rescue team to arrive. Actually the rescue team was more of a cadaver retrieving crew, since most crashes killed the pilots. He had plenty of time to kill until the rescue team came for him. With only his senses and thoughts to keep him occupied his mind began to wander. Eventually his thoughts stumbled onto Elise. Her soft olive skin seemed so real in his mind's eye that he thought he could touch it with his physical hand. Her sharp green eyes glowed with a vitality he had only seen thrice before. She walked with such grace and determination that she conveyed a force that must be respected. He fantasized about making love to her but he knew that no matter how good his imagination is the real thing would be infinitely better. His hands glided over her body, lingering over her breasts. Leaning forward, he kisses her softly on the lips. She melts into his arms and kisses back, their tongues exploring each other. He found her center and entered. Fuzziness. She's writhing in pleasure beneath him as he enjoys her softness. Building toward a climax she. The rescue team shatters his reverie with worse timing than General Custer on Earth in his defeat at Little Big Horn. He stood, squinting his eyes at the harsh sun glaring at him. A few hours must have passed since he crashed, judging by the sun. They directed him to the vehicle in which he'd be carried back. He took his time getting to the craft. Wasting time, he kicked a stone around a few times, and relieved himself beside a boulder. After some time, he made his way to the vehicle and got in. The rescue team searched for the black box that recorded everything that happens to the aircraft until its circuits are destroyed. The rescue team took a few minutes to locate it. Finally, he was on his way back to the hanger.  
  
That night, Paul and Emily were reading novels in bed. Paul was reading a thriller about a man who sees things a few minutes before they happen. He was tearing through the pages at such a speed that any faster the pages would begin to smoke from being rubbed together. Emily was somewhat engrossed in a romance novel, the type with the Fabio look-a-like on the cover with a scantily clad babe. Putting her book down carelessly not caring if she lost her page, Emily said, "I'm gonna go put the kids to bed." Barely hearing what she said, he was lost in the gripping novel. "K." Paul zipped through twenty or more pages in the short time she was gone. When she returned she climbed on the bed, laying on her side so she can look at him. Paul didn't even notice her, so she took the offensive. She pulled the novel from his hands. "Hey!" Paul said in objection. Emily set the book down on her nightstand, rolled on top of him and kissed him deeply. When she came up for air, he still had a grievance to her action, but when she slid a hand up his shirt, her intentions became clear. "Ohh." He said, understanding. Emily disrobed herself without getting up. The light from the lamp on Paul's nightstand cast soft shadows across her delicate skin. She pulled his shirt off over his head while he removed his shorts and underpants in a single movement. Emily reached over and killed the light from the lamp. The only light shining into the room was the shine from the full moon slipping between the vertical slats that covered the glass door that led out onto a balcony. She leaned forward and kissed him. Paul pulled her closer while he rubbed her exposed back. Although he was far stronger than she was, she elevated herself into the sitting position, straddling him. Rhythmically at first, she began to slide, placing her hands on his muscular chest for support. Succumbing to the world of pleasure, she picked up her pace. The sweat pouring off their bodies was like an aphrodisiac, as if they needed it. With a wail of ecstasy, Emily climaxed. In an explosion of sensual excitement, Paul sprayed his fluid into her. Coming down off her sexual high, Emily collapsed onto Paul. "Oh, Jesus." She said almost exhausted. "I love you." Paul said stroking her matted hair. "I love you too." She responded with a glow in her eyes. Not bothering to redress, they fell asleep in each others loving arms.  
  
A few weeks have passed since Chris had his story placed into the regional literature competition. He didn't win the grand prize, but he did achieve the highest placing, fifth, for anyone in his grade, third. His parents were very proud of his accomplishments.  
  
3  
  
Thousands of probes were jettisoned into the black emptiness of space, in search of the Core Machines. Into the far-reaching depths of space, across millions of light years they flew. They would search for eternity until they located their quarry. Hundreds of ADIT members scanned an endless stream of data from the countless probes. Numbers and letters perpetually flowed across their monitors. "Sir, I think we may have a problem." "What? Did you find one of the 'Machines'?" "No. There's a problem in our own space." "We don't have any time for domestic problems." "I think you may want to look at this." "Very well. What is it?" "Here's the information. The man told his superior the information. Though he was skeptical about the validity of the information, he permitted a search to begin. He gave the man three days to find a relation between the information and the Machines or he would have to return to his computer and watch the streaming data from the probes until the Machines were found.  
  
"We have a definite sighting. Tell the boss." "The information is too convoluted to get a solid location of where they are, I got lucky on this one. I need more." "So what do we do?"  
  
I am Miles. I live on the grand planet of Deneb. I have been told many times before that I am the luckiest person in the world, because I have survived more battles than any other Arm military personal, ever. I honestly cannot remember how many battles it was, all I know that it was too many. Men are not supposed to have seen what I have seen. They said that fighting battles inside machines would not introduce the men to the horrors of battle as greatly as fighting hand-to-hand. I don't know where to begin to explain how wrong that is. No matter how many layers of steel that they could put between my fallen comrades and I, I could still see their faces twisted in pain and agony, blood spurting from every orifice on their faces. Sometimes, I think that they were the lucky ones. When the Core Consciousness was destroyed I admit I was jovial, but soon that feeling wore off. That's when the sleepless dreams started. In the sleepless dreams, I revisit the battles I've fought in, specifically, the ones where someone close to me died. It is like God is punishing me for what I've done, the number of Core minds I've destroyed. The cause I don't know, but I do know that they are painful for me. Slowly, I became more introverted as the weeks progressed. I have considered suicide many times. I don't know how I made it through those eleven long torturous years. Everybody tells me that I'll get better, but I don't see how I can. I've been turned inwards so long, that I cannot remember what it's like to be normal again, or how to be normal again. I don't really care what day it is, so I don't have a calendar in my home. I could care less what the people outside my world, my home, do so I don't have a holograph projector either. All I do care about is having fresh food. I don't know why I still eat, I could starve myself and nobody would care about this old hermit, but I eat my fill nonetheless. I open the refrigerator door. I pull out a partly eaten sandwich that I started yesterday. I sit in a reclining chair and pull the leg rest up. I rest as I eat the remainder of my sandwich. Outside my window a family plays some game that I cannot discern. I bring my thoughts back to my sandwich, as if I could find joy in it. I have not experienced joy since the collapse of the Core. In my world daylight does not shine. Clouds obscure the faint amounts of light penetrating the monstrous thunderheads that stain the skies above, yet no rain falls. Nightfall brings the hideous creatures of my nightmares to life. I can find no shelter in this macabre situation. Now I find myself sitting in the seat of my Fido I drove in the Arm military in one of my sleepless dreams. The battle I remember. It was the third day of the eighth month on Tergiverse IV. The battle was for control of a mountaintop that was to be used for artillery shelling of a nearby Core base preceding the major siege to conquer the Core on this planet and push them to Barathrum. I remember this battle vividly because it was when I lost my best friend of four long years. Private Jimmy Benson. I saw his Zeus plodding over the rocks towards a death that only I know will occur. If only I could tell him that he would die if he went into battle maybe he would stop, but I know that he would not hear me, because I am only an observer now. My regiment was caught off guard by Core artillery fire. I saw the balls of plasma flying through the air, in the battle I shouted that everyone get out of the way. But I can remember Jimmy's Zeus being struck by one of those balls of death and torn straight down the middle. There was no hope of rescue because the sphere's trajectory carried through the Zeus's cockpit. Jimmy would have been killed instantly. Now I jump to a point after the battle. Me, and the remaining people in my regiment, scrounge through the debris, looking for survivors. I come to Jimmy's Zeus. I know that he is dead, but I dig anyway. After some time, I find the cockpit. Actually it isn't a cockpit any more. It is a literal tube in the Zeus' frame. The edges of the tube are melted from the plasma. There is no blood, there is no body. I jump times again, now it's that night after Jimmy died. I see myself kneeling before a tree in prayer. I had carved a inscription into the bark of the tree that marked Jimmy's resting place, though there is no body. I remember what the inscription says just like I wrote it yesterday. Here lies Jimmy Benson. He didn't leave behind a wife, or kids, or grieving parents. All he left behind was a friend. I shift places again. I am back in my home now, but night has fallen. I looked outside, foolishly expecting to see the family still enjoying the youthful exuberance. Of course, the dark, gloomy street was empty. The family would have returned to their home hours ago. Without knowing the time, I would just succumb to sleep whenever I grew weary, and awake whenever my body wants to. Judging from the absence of light from bedroom windows I knew it was late into the evening, but I might stay up for another hour or so. The night gave me comfort, because then I knew that there was something as desolate and empty as my soul felt.  
  
4  
  
Louis Holliday sat at his computer watching information that streamed across the screen from a reconnaissance mission he was overseeing. This was only one of several dozen recon missions sent out in the past four days. The nature of the missions was to find Core energy waves. Not any ordinary energy waves, the energy waves that were recorded on Salak several months ago. They were looking for the Machines as they were called. The Machines was the Core's answer to extinction. Seven Machines were still in existence. The Core computers on Core Prime only gave the names of systems for the location of these facilities of death. Louis, or Lou as his friends and co-workers called him, was monitoring the missions into the Antilles system. These Machines scared him to death. That is if they were capable of everything his superiors claimed they were. Since he only answered to three people, he believed every word that was uttered from their lips. The ADIT had no system of ranking. You knew who your superiors were. Lou knew that he was on one of the top rungs of the ladder, but he did not know how many people above him he remained ignorant of. He just hoped that they could find a way of neutralizing these Machines before they could become active. If they activated, which the one on Salak did but it malfunctioned, they could produce an army of Core machines that could easily wipe out the entire ADIT despite all the technological enhancements they had made in the past eleven years.  
  
"There are no units that have remained the same since the Battle of Cocytus." Fred Norris said as he briefed the newcomers to ADIT. He hated this part of his job, but as the public relations director he had to. "I won't tell you each and every change, but I will tell you the commonly used craft." It was his job to see that the public never knew what ADIT was. "The first one we will look at is the Archimedes fighter-bomber. With a double heat-guided missile launcher it can easily handle any other aircraft in the sky. And with its high-explosive bombs, it has nullified the use of bomber squadrons. With a maximum airspeed of three hundred fifty meters per second, it is the fastest thing in the sky." The Archimedes Fred pointed out was being towed into the hanger. It was an elegant yet deadly machine. With swept back wings and a pointed nose it looked like it was a weapon itself for a giant robotic nightmare. One of the newcomers asked a question. "With the Core destroyed, why is the government still spending trillions on the military?" "Well, to be frank, the Core wasn't entirely wiped out. And there's also the threat of foreign invaders." The group of three was shocked at the first bit of news to a much greater degree than the latter. They probably didn't even hear the latter. Fred didn't care. "Here is the new tank. The Prometheus is a heavy battle tank with a large long-range plasma cannon in tandem with a one hundred five millimeter flak cannon. In a group of fifteen it can wipe out a well established base quickly." From the wheel base to the top of the turret the tank stood only twenty feet tall. The new adaptations to shock absorbsion tanks with big turrets made it possible for smaller designs while still removing the threat of the barrel's recoil from the driver and gunman. "The final craft I would like to show you, you cannot see here, but you can look at holograms of it in the monitors on your right." He gestured to the bank of computers that were sitting idle. "Just touch the screen and the picture will come on the screen." They hurried over to the computers almost like children in a candy store, but more refined. "The Enterprise Super Star Frigate. We currently have forty-two of them on active duty." He began to pace behind them becoming tired of his own voice. "It has proton torpedoes, four hangers, and an enhanced deuterium laser. The deuterium laser uses metals tendency to expel electrons when it becomes excited and accelerates the effect. With only a single shot the armor of whatever it may be targeting is brittle enough to break with your bare hands. The damage radius ranges from thirteen to twenty-three feet. The main cannon it uses is the quantum laser. It fires a concentrated ball much like the positron cannon but in more of a concentrated area. It is designed to entirely wipe out a section of space and leave objects just meters out of its blast radius unharmed. It is still in the test phase of construction, but all of the Enterprise's have one on board in the incident that it needs it." Now that he finished showing the children the toys he sent them to their rooms. "You are to report to your room and await further instruction."  
  
Wincing as she stood, Emily made her way down a flight of steps and into the kitchen. Her leg often bothered her at night. She then would take some pain relievers and go back to bed. But then there were times when it hurt so badly that she had difficulty walking. Damn modern medicine to hell, she thought. She knew that the medical practices of the past would have been insufficient to save her leg and she would have been confined to a wheelchair for the remainder of her life. But she wasn't sure which was worse, the inexorable pain or being trapped within a wheelchair for life. Times like this she longed for the wheelchair, but when she remembered how much fun it was to play with her children, she almost welcomed the pain. Opening the medicine cabinet, she extracted the bottle of pain relievers and swallowed three of the small pills with no water. She returned the bottle to its rightful place and made her way back to bed. She hated walking up stairs when her leg was feeling the way it was. Pain shot from her leg and dulled her senses with each fretful step. Slowly and tentatively, she made her way back into bed. She pulled up the covers, so as to not disturb her husband, inserted her bad leg and followed it under the covers. In a few minutes, the chemicals in the pain relievers found her brain and numbed her entire body. She rapidly fell into a deep sleep.  
  
5  
  
I dreamt about the war again for the fifth night in a row, and they keep getting more intense by the day. I find myself waking with my mouth open as if I was trying to emit a scream of pain but had no voice to convey it. This night was no different. I woke up shaking uncontrollably and with what seemed like gallons of sweat covering my entire body. The same scene from the dream kept replaying itself over and over in my mind, like an old CD player that kept getting thumped. I remember every gory detail of it. Standing near a vehicle plant, I was slouched against the steel grating of the massive structure when I heard a familiar sound. It was like nails on a chalkboard, you never forget it. The reverberating wham of Intimidator fire rang through the valley more times than I can remember. The shot landed a hundred yards away from me. Even though the Intimidator was quickly silenced the death it rained down was engraved into my memory. The bloody corpses riddled with giant chunks of shrapnel. The dead and the dying all mixed into one ghastly ordeal. The pools of crimson blood staining the ground, couldn't save them all, so much blood, so much death.  
  
The frightful sequence played itself out again, then again. It would only be ceased by a stiff drink. I drank the mixture and in minutes my thoughts became blunt and I forgot about the dream, or at least partly, just enough that I could care less about it.  
  
Dawn arrived. Groggily, Chris pushed himself out of his bed and cautiously tiptoed to the stairs. He listened for any sounds that would expose to him that his parents were awake. He didn't like to go downstairs before they were. He really didn't know why. He heard footsteps. Daddy was downstairs, he thought. He descended the steps, but he grew cold. Something told him to go back up the stairs. His stomach was clenched in a knot. He turned around to go back upstairs. The feeling inside stopped and he felt like he was acting like a child. He hated to act like a kid. Even though he was only eight years old, he still shunned himself each time he acted childish. Again he descended the stairs, this time the entire way down. He heard an unfamiliar voice whisper, "that's him." Chris froze in terror unable to scream, unable to breath. Suddenly something hard hit him in the side of his head. His vision grayed and he fell unconscious to the floor.  
  
Sound asleep and dreaming of a flowered field that stretched out for miles. She was like a child at play, running and laughing with glee. She didn't want the dream to end, because she was able to run and play without pain from her leg. Just as she was jumping into a pile of autumn leaves she was sucked out of her dream and back to reality. Someone woke her by shaking her shoulder violently. "Emily, wake up! Wake up!" Her husband said urgently. Sluggishly, she rolled onto her back, and wiped the sleep from her eyes. "What is it?" She said tiredly. "Chris isn't in his bedroom or anywhere in the house!" He spoke rapidly and his wide eyes seemed to scream out 'I'm afraid.' Snapping out of her daze, "What?!" She shot to her feet and slipped her feet into her slippers. "Are you sure?" She felt her heart accelerating. "I checked all over the house! He isn't here!" Hastily, Emily searched the house even though her husband had already performed the task. She just wasn't ready to except that her son had vanished in the night. She searched the house top to bottom. No Chris. Her heart was pounding against the inside of her chest. She could feel panic begin to surge through her, but she repressed it. People do stupid things when they panic. She needed to keep a level head. She ran into the house to call the police.  
  
6  
  
Outside my window police arrived, they walk to my neighbor's house. Something bad had to have happened over there because the police officers did not have their weapons drawn. Therefore, someone must have phoned them over there. I wonder why. Was it domestic violence? No. I don't think that nice man would ever strike that woman, with her leg and all. Was it because they had illegal possessions inside? No. If that was true then one of the adults would have to make a pickup of the merchandise, and I haven't seen them leave the house after dark, and that would be the only time the transaction would be safe. Was it a robbery? Might be. Don't know why, it just seems right. No matter. I couldn't be of any help anyway, and if I were of any help no one would want an old veteran like me hanging around. It is crying shame of what this world's coming to.  
  
With all of the adrenaline that was pumping through Emily's veins her leg didn't bother her. But she knew that once the high wore off she would be in incredible pain. Within minutes after the police arrived, two men in black suits took over the investigation. Emily could hear the conversation one of the men was having with the chief outside since she had went outside for a breath of fresh air to try and calm her nerves. And what she heard scared her. She didn't know why she did it but she ducked behind a bush and hid. "What do you mean you have the authority?!" The chief yelled. "We have the authority to take over any investigation if it compromises galactic security." The man answered in monotonic voice. "Galactic security?! What does a missing child have to do with galactic security?!" The chief was ready to explode. "The less you know the better off you are." The man turned away from the chief and called the attention of the police officers. "We are now in charge of this case, and we are ending the investigation now." Several of the officers looked puzzled. The man who was talking led the other suited man away from the group of police officers. Once out of earshot they were only ten feet away from Emily. She knew they were dangerous, she didn't know why, she just did. They were so close Emily swore they could hear her heart slamming into her ribs. The one who spoke to the chief said, "They saw too much, we arrived too late." "What should we do then?" "Silence them." "The parents?" "No. That would be too obvious. Let them live, they don't know anything." Emily was frozen in fear. Who were these men, and what did they want with Chris? The two men walked away, and Emily went the opposite way and ran into the house. What was going on? Her blood ran cold as these questions rattled through her head.  
  
The missions to find the Machines were taking too long. Lou still sat at his computer examining the incoming information when one of the top men told everybody to stop, they knew where the Machines were. One of the other people working on the information scanning must have seen it. Now their job switched from search to destroy. They assembled an army twenty times the size of the Core and Arm forces engaged in the Battle of Cocytus. They were taking no chances. The Machines were highly destructive mechanisms of war. The positron cannon would be useless because the sensors on the Machines would pick up the energy flux and destroy the source. The way the first Gemini was destroyed. Twelve Enterprise frigates were loaded to the brim with land assault crews and aircraft. The plan was to take out the Machines one by one. They would not spread their forces thin and risk losing one of the battles and giving the Core a chance to prepare an army with the Machines before they arrived. There was no communications between the Machines so they could not warn each other of the imminent attack. They would overpower the Machines and blow their circuits apart. Then, and only then would the Core threat be extinguished. Maybe.  
  
Those men in the black suits gave me the creeps. I don't know what they were doing here but it didn't feel right. Something's going down and I don't like it. But what can I do. I'm just a depressed old man. I sit in my recliner and try to pull myself out of my hole, but it never works. It always sends me back. I see myself lying with a gorgeous woman. I remember this, it was on Thalassean. That was the last woman I ever had. In fact this was the last time. In the next battle, the destroyer and the rest of the same fleet she served on was sent to the bottom of the ocean. She did not go down with the ship but was able to find something to use as a makeshift lifeboat. She must have drifted for weeks, because they found her emaciated body decomposing when it washed up on shore. I see her now, floating on something that I cannot see. It must several days after the sinking of her destroyer. Her gaunt arms are stretched outwards from her wasted body. Her face is shrunken to the point were you could not tell if she was beautiful or ugly, young or old. Each breath she takes seems like a new venture in misery. Now I'm sitting in my house. Sweat's pouring down face. That particular flashback is always the most devastating to me. From what I can tell, that is the point from which I began my decline into the hole I'm in now.  
  
Emily and Paul sat in their living room as the chief explained what happened to their son, or what the men in the black suits said what had happened. "From what we can tell, at about six in the morning, your son left your house." "But he never even comes down stairs if we aren't down here first." Paul objected. "He might have decided to run away." The police officer proposed. "But that doesn't make any sense, he has everything he could want here." Emily said making her best attempt not to cry. "Anyway, we found his body about three miles away." He was monotonic as the men in the black suits were. "Oh, my God." Paul said when he heard 'body' come out of the chief's mouth. He felt the blood drain from his face. "He was mugged by an unknown assailant about an hour after he left your home." Something didn't feel right about this whole thing to Emily, but something told her to act devastated. "We need you to identify his body at the morgue." The chief was uncomfortably blunt with the news. Which was odd, usually they broke news gently, not with this degree of curtness. "We'll.be down later.today." Emily said with a heavy heart and a bit of confusion, as she stared at her hands on the table. Something was wrong. Paul said nothing, the circumstances over the past few hours had devastated him far more than Emily, because he had not heard what she had. He had the urge to vomit but he suppressed it. The chief stood up and said, "I'm sorry about what happened to your son." But he didn't sound sincere. He exited the house. Paul stood and weakly said, "I'm going to check on Helen. See how she's taking this." His voice crackled with emotion as it trailed off. Solemnly, he went up the steps to the girl's bedroom where she was told to stay until the police left. Emily followed Paul a minute after he left. She saw him leaning against the wall, head hung low, one arm limp at his side, the other pressed against his head. Choked emotional sounds issued from his as he silenced the tears that pressed against him. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. There was something missing in his kiss. Emily knew she had to tell him about what she heard the black suited-men say. No time like the present she told herself. "Something doesn't feel right about this. It feels wrong. It feels." Emily paused thinking of the right word to convey her thoughts, ".dirty." Paul barely was able to find the will to speak. "What are you saying?" He said, his voice wavering. "When I went outside to get a breath of fresh air." Emily told him of what she heard the men in the black suits say. "Holy mother of Christ." Paul was stunned by the events Emily elucidated to him. "They're going to kill the cops that were here, every one of them." Then Paul made a connection, "That might mean that Chris's alive somewhere." He grew more jovial as he progressed through his sentence, but he still remained a degree despondent. "What about the police, they told us we had to identify his.him.at the morgue." Emily had difficulty in saying 'body' as if it would mean that Chris was dead, and she did not want to admit to that. Not yet. Too many questions, not enough answers.  
  
Before they went to the morgue, they decided to say that it was Chris. So they would not appear suspicious. Now, standing before a cart with a white blanket covering what was supposed to be their son. Even though they knew it might not be him under that sheet, they held each other, seeking support. Because they knew The mortician pulled back the sheet and exposed the head. Emily whipped around from the sight of the body. She nearly vomited. Not because the body the mortician revealed was horribly mutilated. The left side of the face was caved in to the eye, which was missing from its socket. Deep bruises covered the entire head. The lips were swollen badly and split in several places. The chin was died crimson from the blood. The hair was the same, dried blood stained and straightened the strands on the forehead and on the left side of the head. She turned away because the body looked remarkably like Chris. Paul shook his head yes as if to say 'we saw enough, it's him.' The mortician wheeled the cart away.  
  
7  
  
Darkness all around, no light or sound except that of his own voice. He felt like he was floating in space but he realized that there was a thick water he was laying on. He could feel several things attached to his head and body. He didn't know what they were so he left them alone. The left side of his head ached, from where he was struck by something. And when he woke up, he was here. "Mommy." Chris said tentatively, expecting an answer but he knew that he would receive none for he had done tried it before. "Mommy, where are you?" He felt like he was going to cry. But he held them back by blinking his eyes. Only children cry he told himself, and I'm not a kid.  
  
At home, Emily and Paul discussed what they thought of the situation they were in. "Well, if Chris is alive, who would take him and where is he?" Emily said, laying out a topic more than asking a question. "You said that the men in black suits are going to kill the six cops that were here, so that would mean they are beyond the law, and do whatever they want." "But that could be a lot of things." "It might be a government agency, a group of foreigners, or it might be the military." Paul said. Emily felt a chill run up her spine that was so cold it made her shiver when Paul said 'military.' It felt like the hand of death himself sliding up the length of her back. "I think it might be the military." "What makes you think that?" "I just have a feeling, that's all." "And I know about your feelings, so let's just say it is the military. That could mean he's on any of a hundred or more planets in any of a thousand installations. It would take ten lifetimes to name them all." Paul said realizing the desperation of the situation. "I know." Emily said realizing the same. "Why would they want a boy?" "That's the part I can't figure out. They go through all the trouble of kidnapping and a cover up. All of it for a boy, just a boy." "It makes no sense." Paul agreed. There was a somber atmosphere hanging in the house as they spoke, and the more they spoke, the heavier it seemed to get. Until it seemed that they would suffocate on it. "I don't think they'd take him too far." Paul said. "Yes, I think it's somewhere close." Emily concurred with him. "So, what do we do?" "I don't know, but it's getting late. Let's sleep on it and talk about it tomorrow." "Good idea." Paul said yawning and stretching at the same time. That night after Emily tucked Helen into her bed, not saying a word about her brother, and after Paul fell asleep, Emily tossed and turned in the soft double bed. Her leg was throbbing, but she didn't want to take any medication if she absolutely had to. It wasn't until several days after the Battle of Cocytus that she learned the full extent of the damage the shrapnel in her leg caused. The obvious damage was the scar that ran from just above her knee a full nine inches, and on the backside of her thigh, a smaller two-inch scar from where the giant piece of metal stuck out the back. The doctors said that the hunk of metal hit her with a force of over ten million pounds per square inch. The metal cut the muscle on the front of her leg in two. Then it shattered her femur, sending shards of bone all through her thigh. They couldn't remove them all because there were too many and most of them were too small. That is part of the origin of her discomfort in her leg, the remaining shards of bone still in her muscles, the other part is the process that the doctors used to repair her leg. The process was designed to regenerate tissue damage quickly, but what it has in speed, it lacks in quality, the tissue that is grown in place is inferior to the surrounding tissue. After that, the piece of metal sliced through the muscle on the back of her leg and protruded out the other side. Luckily, it missed every major artery and had enough heat on it from the explosion to cauterize the blood vessels that it did rupture. Her injury was minor in comparison to some of the other's she'd seen. In on instance, a man was piloting a Rocko when the gyros short-circuited, that balanced the unit so it didn't fall over. When the gyros went the entire unit fell over and tumbled down a nearby hill. Amazingly, the man inside survived, but Emily thought that he'd rather be dead. Both his arms were twisted and misshapen and rendered useless. His once youthful face was tortured and smashed, leaving him deaf, blind and mute. His legs were literally torn away from his body, all that remained were small stumps. He was a complete invalid. Another man took a plasma shell straight through the lower abdomen. His legs and lower half of his stomach were disintegrated instantaneously. He needed to be attached to a special machine that continued the digestive processes so that his body could absorb the majority of the nutrients in the food he ate. Emily knew that her injury could have been worse, but sometimes that does not quench her anguish. Those damn doctors, she thought, they could have spent the weeks operating on her leg, that was the time they told her it would have taken to remove all of the bone shards and perform the lengthier recuperation process. They could have taken all the time they wanted, just so they could alleviate the pain. But the doctors went for speed in operations not precision. Speed, she was only on the table for a little over one hour. The operation only removed the piece of metal and most of the shards of bone. The drugs they gave her afterwards rapidly repaired the muscle and tissue damage and refortified the femur. The drugs acted quickly, in only forty minutes all of the tissue damage and muscles were repaired and the femur was mended. In just one hundred minutes her injury was rectified. On the newly discovered planet Earth that process would have taken months. The pain surged, and Emily nearly screamed aloud in pain. She needed the pain relievers now. She slowly raised herself to her feet and used anything she could as a support. She made it to the steps and shuffled down them sitting down, because she believed she would have fallen if she had walked. She went to the kitchen and took some of the medication. Then returned to bed in the same manner that she descended the steps with, back to her bedroom, into her bed and fell asleep.  
  
Silence, scary silence. Time has lost all meaning. With only his thoughts to keep him company, pictures of scary things that he cannot define flash through his mind. Chris isn't sure if it's day or night, or even what day it is. "Daddy?" He asks the veil of black draped across his vision. No answer, just as he thought. "Mommy."  
  
Emily was yanked violently from her sound sleep, this time not by her leg, but by an unknown force. She swore that she hear Chris call out to her. "Baby?" She asked hoping for a reoccurrence, but none came. She felt as if her heart had been torn from her chest. Tears welled in the corner of her eyes. The time released drugs kicked in again and she became drowsy very quickly. Sleep clouded her thoughts.  
  
Lou was the pilot of one of the Archimedes fighter-bombers. He loved how well they handled. He would kill for a chance to take one of them out by himself and see what she can do. He might have his chance in over the next few weeks in the exploits to take out the Machines. In thirty minutes he would have his first chance. "Pilots man your drop ships." The intercom spat out. "Thirty minutes till orbit." It was coming he could feel it.  
  
Detection-Arm fleet}-Unidentified vessels_count-12 Activate [proximity drain]- charging batteries Time charging 10:34 Batteries charged: Activate [production facilities] --------Failure: error 156. Shut down production racks 1-94. Run production racks 95-100. --------Failure: Insufficient resources. Storage tank 4E nullified. Storage tank 3M nullified. Run production racks 97.  
  
I stand on the steel ground. I should be in my bedroom but I am here. A sleepless dream, but this time it's plaguing me in my sleep. I can see a mass of Core units and installations ahead of me. I remember this. The hours before the Battle of Cocytus. I feel the butterflies in my stomach even though I know they aren't really there. I feel the wind blow cold on my skin, but I know it's only my memory. Now I'm in my Fido giving fire protection to my fellow Arm soldiers. I watch them die, but mostly I see the Core resistance falling to the pressing of the Arm charge. I remember this too. I am under the command of Commander Emmanuel. I should be commanding this battalion. Emmanuel's a child compared to me. The arrogant bastard. I feel an anger burn in my stomach, but I know it's only fleeting. Now I'm watching as the Consciousness is destroyed. I can feel the hot tears burn my cheeks, and see them blur my vision. I can see the joyous reactions of comrades burst into when the Consciousness is finally destroyed. It was the last time I was ever happy. I switch places again. Where am I? I'm in a room, looks something of a laboratory. There's a giant contraption standing in the middle of the room. I feel a presence flowing from it that I think I should know. I do not know this place, this is not a sleepless dream. Computer readouts are on a few monitors.  
  
Machine number one stood just beyond the door that the ground army gazed at. The door was immense, at least one hundred feet tall and nearly three times that in length. The doors surged open. The Arm forces rushed through the opening gate. A stream of Core units were marching towards them. They were a mix of Crashers, Thuds, and Storms. Those were the Core's main assault units, because of their low cost and extreme efficiency in battle for that low economical drain. The Arm squad was of the newer Asp assault k-bots. The most advanced targeting and detection systems were incorporated in the units design. It was armed with a rapid-fire medium laser, which spit out twenty shots a second, and the photon beam. The photon beam was almost a miniature version of the positron cannon. It took thirty seconds to charge the beam but it was design not to explode when it struck the target but rip through the armor and explode inside the unit, ideal for destroying lower level units, like these Core pests that rushed them. The Arm struck first with a flurry of lasers that tore through the lesser Core units like a bullet through flesh. Explosions of every kind reduced the oncoming Core units to rubble quickly. But they kept coming. The first wave of rocket k-bots fired at the Arm units. "So this is why the Core put these units in the machines programming, they are so cheap they would just simply overwhelm the opponent eventually." "Don't forget about the photons boys." Right then a throng of blue lasers devastated the Core advance. The photon beams were more powerful than they had to be. The shock from each detonation pinned each of the pilots into their seats and made their eyes water. The Asps now made a charge of their own. Plowing through the enemy k-bots was a chore. They just didn't stop coming. Wave after wave they fell, but more just came from behind them. Now the rubble was becoming a nuisance. The photon beams took care of the more pesky piles of scrap, while the lasers blasted the attackers to pieces. "Number one is close, check around that corner." "We got it! It's the master control!"  
  
Intruder alert: Intruder alert. Defensive mechanisms failed. Production racks 97-halt production. Possible information spill immanent. Trigger self-destruct. T-minus 5:00.  
  
"Blow the whole fucking thing!" The photon beam tore into the control board and it was destroyed instantly. Looking at the readouts on the screens lining the room. The man in the Asp that just destroyed the main console saw something that would turn the whole mission into a waste of time. The self-destruct was activated. "Get the hell out here! The thing's on self-destruct!" He yelled as he streaked out of the room, telling everybody what he saw. Hastily, all of them ran for the exit. "MOVE, MOVE GODDAMMIT!" The leader shouted at the top of his lungs. They broke into the day outside and kept running. That thing would make one huge explosion when it finally went.  
  
T-minus 0:04. T-minus 0:03. T-minus 0:02. T-minus 0:01. Detonation.  
  
A gigantic explosion ripped through the planet. The Asps were thrown forward by the immense shockwave emanated by the Machine. A white flash lit the world around them. It was so bright the sun was blotted out in comparison. Behind them, a huge crater marked the place where the thing once stood. The tail end of the mushroom cloud the explosion manifested dissipated in the jet stream and was carried off by the wind. Only three Asps were lost, all taken by the explosion. Not bad. But the Machine was only running on one rack, if it had all racks operative, it might have been a whole other story.  
  
8 Emily slept listlessly. She kept having a reoccurring nightmare throughout the night. She would wake up sweating profusely, wanting to scream in terror but can't. After a few minutes, she would fall back to sleep. She's back on the battlefield of the Battle of Cocytus. The Crasher is standing in front of her, it explodes, but she doesn't move. The piece of metal that almost destroyed her thigh struck her in the stomach and threw her backwards five or more yards. Blood spewing all around her in a growing puddle of crimson. Her legs don't want to move, she can't even feel them. Paralysis. Her worst fear. Ironic, that the thing that would cease her agony of her leg permanently, she was terrified of, maybe it was justified. The Bulldog that picked her up in reality, turned away from her. A feeling of helplessness fell over her. She tried to shout after the tank, but only choking sounds were issued from her lips. A warm trickle fell from her mouth. Raising her hand to the spot, blood. The red liquid marked her fingers. There was no pain. Nothing. She couldn't feel anything. She attempted to pull the metal slag from her stomach. But when she touched it, it transformed into fire. It spread over her body rapidly, but she felt nothing. No burning, no desire to quench the flames dancing across her. The flames began to extinguish themselves but as they did, they exposed skin that was transformed into circuitry and gears. Panic shot through her like a knife. Again she woke up. The same sweats, the same cry of terror that never came. But this time she did not fall back to sleep. She knew what this dream meant, that she had cheated death, that she was supposed to die there with the metal shard lodged in her chest, at least that's what she thought it meant, and she was pretty damn sure she was right. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, hugged herself and cried. She cried for Chris, her little baby. Gone. NO! Not gone. She would get him back. She would make those bastards pay for what they did to him. Right there she made up her mind that she would not rest until Chris was returned to her. She would kill anyone that stood in her way, they were all the same. Ruthless, heartless, bastards. Crying, she felt something in the room with her. Not malevolent, but benign. This time when she fell asleep, her dreams were not nightmarish. They were peaceful. She dreamed of holding Chris in her arms the day he was born. The bliss she felt as she rocked him to slumber in her arms, the sweet tears that flowed her eyes as she looked upon his innocent face. The delivery was complicated, Chris would be her last child. She woke up feeling refreshed, but that feeling vanished when she remembered that Chris wasn't there. In the dining room she sat with a cup of coffee staring at the wooden table. She heard Helen climb down the steps with her distinctive walk. One step down, feet on same step, right foot forward one step, left foot joins right. She always descended the steps in the morning in that fashion. Emily began to wonder why. Maybe because a simple thought would cloud her mind enough to, for a moment or two, make her forget about her worry. Looking tired and a little downtrodden, the eleven year-old half walked and half stumbled to the chair across from her mother. "How you feeling sweetie?" Emily asked in as soothing a voice as she could muster, but to her it did not sound real enough to fool anyone. The girl looked down at her hands in her lap. She looked daunted by the pressures that were growing around them. "Empty." She replied. Empty, that word summed up the feelings that Emily had too. Strange how a child can better understand feelings than an adult can. Maybe it was because the adult's mind was poisoned by the hate of society, where as the child has only seen that hate but never tasted its bittersweet flavor. "I know baby. I know."  
  
I see that room again. What is this room? I feel something in that sphere in the middle of this place. Who, or what is it? I see men now, three of them. They are wearing white lab coats. What are they doing? Tests? But on what? They stand around the sphere, one of them walks over to the giant ball. He glances back at one the others. And he shakes his head. He does something to the computer attached to the sphere. WHAM! A violent shock just shot through me, but the three men obviously didn't feel anything. My fingers are tingling. I want out of this dream. A new sensation now. My brain feels like its being invaded, or someone's trying to get in. STOP! I shout, but no one seems to hear me. The invasion continues. One of the men hits a button. Almost as soon as he hit that button the intrusion in my mind halts. But a single sound rings through my head like the old air raid sirens wailing through the night. "He." I hear. Then the voice trails off. WHOOSH. I am sitting in my couch. The glass of bourbon is still in my hand, not a drop was spilled from it. So I wasn't asleep. If I had fallen asleep, that glass would have spilled at least some of the contents onto the aging cushions. That was the third time I've had that dream. No, it wasn't a dream and it wasn't one of my sleepless dreams. But what was it?  
  
Too much thinking, time for the bourbon. I drink the whole glass of the cool liquid. I pour myself another, and drink that down as well. No more thinking tonight, the bourbon will ensure that.  
  
9 Gary stood, staring at the isolation chamber. He knew that what lay within did not deserve to be there. He turned to Walter. At night him and Walter were the only people in this room. "I feel like slime." "Why?" Walter said unemotionally, like he was a robot or something. "We have that kid locked up in that, that.thing.when he shouldn't even be here." "What are you saying Gary?" Again his voice carried no feeling. "I'm saying what we're doing here is unethical!" "Ethics means nothing." "What do you mean it means nothing!" "I think you're in the wrong line of work if you feel like that." Wrong line of work, eh? I'll show you wrong line of work. Gary had to do something or they were going to destroy the child. Not kill him, but leave him a senseless vegetable for the rest of his life, a punishment worse than death. And all for knowing something he shouldn't. He was only a child for God's sake. He didn't know what he knew was as important as it was. He had to do something and do it know. Time was running out. He had maybe three days at tops left to keep from descending into a mental incompetent and further. Walter checked all of the EEG, EKG, and other readings as they flowed across the screens and took notes on each of them. Gary felt a surge of adrenaline pump into him. He looked at the lab table and grabbed a heavy glass graduated cylinder. Holding by the neck it felt like it weighed three tons in his hand, when in reality the thing was probably about two pounds. He thought about what he could do. First option, leave the lab and get the hell out of here. Problem, Walter would stop him before he could even get the first door open. Solution, remove Walter from the equation. No way around it, he would have to immobilize Walter. Gary snuck up behind Walter and raised the cylinder in his hand like a Neanderthal wielding a club. Walter turned around saying, "What the hell are you do.Holy shit!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. But he didn't react fast enough. Gary swung the cylinder with everything he had. It struck Walter square in the hairline. Glass flew across the room spraying Gary with thousands of little shards. He deterred his eyes so as not to be blinded by the tiny chunks of flying glass. After a moment Gary looked at Walter. Blood was streaming down his face from the serrated cut from the cylinder. Gary couldn't see the gash but he knew it was bad. He checked Walter's reflexes by kicking him hard in the crotch. No response. Either he was unconscious or dead. Didn't matter which, Gary had to get out and fast. He ran over to the sealed door and ripped it open. Sprinted through the small corridor and disengaged the wheel lock on the door. It swung open. Urgency seemed to pulse through every one of his veins. His heart felt like it was pumping pure adrenaline instead of blood. He slammed on the third and final door, which could only be opened from the outside. The guard opened a communications channel through which they communicated. Come on, hurry up. "What is it?" The guard asked. "There was an accident! Doctor Walter needs help now!" That would get the door open. The door flew open and the guard came rushing in. "Where is he?!" Doctor Walter was the most important man in the research team. That was why the guard opened the door so quickly. "He's in here!" The guard followed him. He didn't notice the blood stained cylinder neck Gary held in his hand. The guard took a step and Gary thrust the neck into the guard's neck. The guard made a choking sound and in a few seconds that was melded with a gurgling noise. Blood spewed from the open wound and from his mouth. In seconds he fell over, dead. I just killed a man, Gary thought. Then the sense of urgency fell over him again. And he ran through the door after grabbing the guards gun, it may come in handy. Running through the corridors heading towards the rear exit. That was where the security was the lightest and also where the people went out to talk a walk in the woods. The guards there would not pay any nevermind to him if he left there. The corridors were empty at night, which played in Gary's favor. He rode an elevator up to the ground level and through several hundred yards of hallway lit by fluorescent lights. Six thousand years of advancement since the light bulb was invented, and it has hardly changed at all. Then he saw it, the rear gate. Casually, he walked up to the desk that impeded his path. He tried to hide his adrenaline high but he wasn't sure how well he was doing. They didn't waste time here. Since the only people that came to this desk wanted to leave, the first question was easy. "What is your reason for leaving?" The man asked while he looked through a pornographic magazine. "I want to talk a walk through the woods." Gary replied. He hid his urgency quite well. "Leave through the gate." The guard said never talking his eyes from the pages of the magazine before him. Obviously the guard was so wrapped up in getting off on the pictures of women exposing themselves that he had forgotten to make Gary sign out. Gary walked to the gate, sure that the guard would stop him and ask more questions. The short distance looked like a mile to Gary. Ten feet to go. Now it looked like a marathon track. Five feet. Three thousand light years. He burst through the gate and the cool night air hit him in the face nearly knocking the breath out of him. "Ok, Gary. Where to now?" He was talking to himself. Then he remembered that there was a small town about twenty miles north of here. No problem. He found his bearings and set off. The guard would only realize that he wasn't coming back by the time morning came and passed tomorrow. Gary set off into the night.  
  
Emily knew something was wrong with what happened to her son from square one. She decided to do some investigating on her own. She drove the hover car over to the public library. A custom borrowed from Earth. Inside computers ran all day and all night. They were connected to the computers in the municipal buildings so the people could access information easily. Entering the giant stone building Emily went straight for the top floor and as far away from people as she could get. She sat down at a computer console and thought about where to start first. She decided to start at the beginning. She entered the city news files, from there she could gain legal access to any information that the news may have carried. The screen loaded up and she typed in "Chris Ham" in the search box and hit enter. She waited a few moments for the computer to interpret her quarry and give her a readout of the information she requested. The hourglass shaped cursor twisted on the screen for a few moments. When it stopped, Emily sat up and got ready to read any information she might want to look at. The screen loaded again and what she saw confused her.  
  
Access denied. No admittance.  
  
What the hell? She wondered. What was so important about my kid? She thought to herself. She backed out of the screen and tried another route. Wondering aloud she said quietly, "If I can't see anything about my boy directly, I'll go through it backwards." Surely some newspaper or something would have done something with him in that literature contest she thought to herself. She went back to the keyboard and entered "Finding Eden" the title of Chris's story and struck enter. Again the same screen showed up.  
  
Access denied. No admittance.  
  
In a brief fit of anger and frustration, she punched the monitor. She pulled her hand back and rubbed her knuckles to try and soothe the pain that pulsed from them. Why the giant cover up? What so important about this? She thought. Then something came to her. Galactic Security. The government agencies could do anything they want if the situation compromised the security of the Galactic Empire or any secrets it may be withholding. But why? She thought about that one for a few minutes and decided to try another route. If she could not get the information legally, she would have to hack the computers of some agency or another to get what she desired. But that would be like playing with fire in a room filled with high explosives.  
  
She was quite adept at hacking computers but the last time she did it was in the war. Eleven years is quite a long time. But she figured that her old skills would come back to her once she got started. She popped in an old disk that contained her hacking programs from eleven years ago. The drive read the disk and showed its contents on the screen. She entered the program titled 'Spitfire' one of the five hacking programs on the disk. The main screen popped up. It looked identical to another program on all computers so people that happened to look at your screen would not know what you are doing. She tied the program into the search machine she was currently on. Now, she could lay out the path for the search to follow, and if she did it correctly, it would bypass the block on the information she desired. She entered in the quarry and began the lengthy process of laying out the agenda for the search to follow including what blocks to ignore. Her fingers flew across the keys making clickety-clack noises as the keys rebounded from her fingers depressing them rapidly. She was apparently rusty at hacking. She kept on having to go back over her work and fixing things here and there. Finally, she was finished. She commanded the computer to perform the search she mapped for it. Success! A list popped onto the screen containing a throng of entries. She was inside the regional government's databanks. She scrolled through the seemingly endless list of entries until she found one that grabbed her attention.  
  
Chris Ham. Unknown mortician entry.  
  
She entered into that file. It seemed like a good place to start. She rose in her seat to look for any people that may be wandering near her. Nobody was around, from what she could tell she was alone in this area. She returned to her work.  
  
Mortician name: Access denied Mortuary name: Access denied Identity of body: Chris Ham Cause of death: Massive brain damage Details: Access denied  
  
"Damn." She muttered under her breath. This required more hacking. She wondered how deep she had to go until she found what she was looking for. She brought up the window that contained her hacking programs. She activated 'Rip' a smaller program that was capable of breaking through firewalls and other blocks. She looped into the file she needed to break into. After an excruciatingly long period of time the program took to locate the block and determine the proper sequence for the access codes she was given the permission to see the details. She entered into the once refused file.  
  
Details: Mortician furnished with cadaver simulated in identical condition in accordance to the information supplied by unknown source. This mortician did not see Child in question.  
  
Emily felt the warmth drain from her body when she read that hidden entry. It was clear to her now, or at least part of it. Chris is alive somewhere. Tears of joy peaked through her eyelids and burned her cold skin. She touched the screen as if it would let her see her child and feel him hug her one more time. Then she heard a thump from the stairs. She shot up and looked at the source of the dubious sound. Two men in black suits were walking up the steps. She felt a surge of adrenaline hit her with enough force to knock the wind out of her. She began to shut the programs that would prove her guilt. Then she tore the disc out of the drive and jammed it into her purse. Then she shut the computer off. She about to get up and walk out when something inside her said, "No!" She sat back down, her guts tied in a knot. She knew they would kill her, she didn't know why. More than likely they were going to interrogate her, then kill her. Again, she didn't know why. The men began to search the rows of books looking for anyone else in the floor, or possible witnesses. She realized that they could discover her intentions on the computer if they examined its usage history. She would be nailed. Destroy the evidence. Knowing what she had to do she began to rip the wires out of the back of the contraption. She lifted the light processor unit and whipped it out the window behind her, sending it crashing to the pavement below. There it would shatter into a million indiscernible pieces of circuitry and plastic. The bang that the thing made when it struck the window grabbed the attention of the men and they began to come toward her location. From the aisle next to her she heard, "Kowalski, check it out." She heard a man begin to walk to the opening and he would see her plain as day. Quickly, she thought of a plan. The man stepped around the corner. He was huge. At least six foot five inches, and had to be at least two hundred fifty pounds. He began to move toward her. There was a crude sneer on his face. When he got within reach she grabbed the loose keyboard from her computer that lay in the street and swung it violently at his head. Reflexively, he raised his hands to protect his face. The keyboard made contact. Buttons flew everywhere, stinging Emily in the face. Taking advantage of his defensive position, she gave a hard, swift kick to the groin. Reacting to the rush of pain he dropped to his knees and covered his crotch with his swelling hands, since they took the full front of the keyboard attack. Attacking like a cat, she pounced on the opportunity. She threw his head backwards and planted a solid fist into his Adams Apple twice, collapsing it. He fell back struggling for breath that would never come. He would surely suffocate on the floor there. Obviously, whoever they were, didn't anticipate her being able to defend herself this well. The other man came around the corner saying, "Jesus, Kowalski. You didn't have to make that much noise to get rid of her." When he saw his partner dying on the floor and a wide-eyed woman standing beside him his jaw almost hit the floor. Emily had almost no logical control over her actions. Her anger seemed to burst out of her like an erupting volcano. She grabbed on of the skinny monitors and threw it at the other man like it was a merely a plush toy. It struck his arm and he grabbed it like it was broken. Following the monitor, she rushed him and plowed into him like a linebacker in the Earth sport football. On the ground they began to grapple with each other. Emily was trying to claw his eyes out and make him pay for Chris. The man reached inside his coat pocket. By the time Emily realized what he was doing it was too late. He had pulled the trigger on his weapon. But since they were in such close quarters he wasn't able to get a good shot off. The shot ripped through the left side of her ribs. Luckily, it only tore through the outside of her ribcage, too far away to do any serious damage, but it still hurt like hell. The pain shot through her adrenaline high and the man threw her off of him and stood up. Rubbing his sore arm he said, "What were you doing here?" "Go to hell asshole." Emily said through her teeth. She grabbed her wound and tried to stand up, but her bad leg inhibited her from doing so. He kicked her right thigh, obviously knowing that it was bad. Pain blared out from it and she let out a painful cry. Tears blurred her vision. "I said, what were you doing here?" "Fuck off." She said angrily. He stomped harshly on her thigh making pain explode form her leg ceaselessly. Now, the pain in her leg was ten times worse than the wound in her ribs. He knelt and jammed the weapon forcefully into her temple. "Ok, bitch. Maybe you don't understand me. I want you to tell what you were doing here and I want to know right fucking NOW!" When he said 'now' he pushed the gun harder into her head making her wince under the pressure.  
  
This is the end she thought. Even if I tell them, I won't get out of here alive. She closed her eyes and waited for the darkness to come. Her life began to flash before her eyes. Her childhood, living in fear in bombed out buildings, rummaging through trash to get food. Adolescence, training for the military, not much there. But when she thought of her life now, the thought of Paul grieving over her was too much. She couldn't die here, not like this. Moving as quickly as she could she swung for the guy's crotch but he evaded her attack and fell backwards in doing so. "Still got some fight left in you I see." He stood up and planted a hard kick into the wound on her chest. "Now let's see you fight." He raised the gun to her head, "Goodbye then." A wicked smile drew across his lips.  
  
Emily began to cry. There was nothing she could do. She would die right here. She heard the gunfire, but nothing hit her. Maybe he was tormenting her before he killed her by shooting around her before putting one in her head. But instead of another shot being fired, the man fell on top of her calves. She looked at him. His head was literally blown off. Only a bloody stump remained. That was when she saw the man standing at the stairs. He was holding a large weapon. He was the one who just killed the man planning on killing her. He ran over to her, she could hardly make his face out through the pain and tears. From what she could see he had a white coat on. Strange, all white clothes. "Are you all right?" He said in an urgent voice. She felt like grabbing him by the shirt collar and shaking him around a little bit screaming at him, 'Does it look like I'm all right?!' But all she could manage was a shaking of her head indicating, no. "There may be more coming. We have to get you out of here, fast." He picked her up avoiding her injuries. "Who are you?" Emily managed to say weakly. "No time now. Later." He was talking fast, almost panicky. Slowly they made their way to the fire escape. "What are we doing here?" She said with no more strength than last time. "We can't leave through the main exit, they may be watching." He opened the window and helped her out, and then he followed. The pain had been dulled into a relentless throb. Maybe she was slipping into unconsciousness. For some reason, the thought of being unconscious felt comforting to her right now. Before she realized what was happening, she was in his hover car, and he was pulling into traffic. Normally if a stranger would have dragged her into a car, she wouldn't have entered without a fight. But now she could hardly lift her arms, let alone defend herself, she was at the mercy of this man. Strange though, no fear churned her stomach. "Where do you live?" He asked. Surprised that she remembered it, Emily gave him the address and fell into darkness where pain had no meaning.  
  
10  
  
After the almost disastrous assault on the first Machine, the men were getting prepared for the worst on the next attack. But they were sure they would destroy the Machine. "Approaching planet Qaxar. Drop crews man your stations immediately. Drop will commence in seven minutes."  
  
Detected: Arm Vessel unknown class. Activate: Resource drain. Error: Storage tank 3e frozen. Activate: |Bypass route 3-4. Resource drain completed. Activate: Production racks 1-100. Error: Rack gears 2,3,9,12-85 frozen. Shut down: Erred Racks. Activate: |Emergency detection system.  
  
"Three, two, one. Release drop ships." The six ships were launched from the bottoms of three Enterprise Super Frigates. Plummeting to the surface they hit the atmosphere and the fiery ball surrounded them as they cut through the resistive gas. The drop ships were designed to transport units on starships instead of using Galactic Gates. The renovation was extremely quick and delivered troops to the battlefield with alarming speed and accuracy. It took six minutes for the drop ships to make the voyage to the surface. Massive boosters fired as they approached the surface to cushion the landing. Once they made contact, the drop ships were emptied in twenty seconds flat. Each ship carried thirty units, since there were six of them that made the entire army only one hundred eighty versus an infinite amount of enemies. Their mission was altered from the way they performed the first assault. In the first assault, they were to blow the main circuits, which would cause the entire Machine to shut down. This time, they were targeting a station closer to the exit. The detection systems. With those destroyed, the Enterprise's could all fire their quantum lasers and annihilate the Machine below without a return volley being fired by the defensive mechanisms of the Machine. A simple plant but was fraught with danger. ADIT was not sure how operative the Machine below could be. They did not know how many attack units they could be facing or any other bit of information that could assist the assault in any shape or form. It was like walking into an unfamiliar, lightless room with a murderous killer with night vision trying to kill you within. You can bump into a table or fall into a pit or the maniac can find you and cut your throat out. Needless to say, the attack squad was extremely nervous before setting out into the unknown. The majority of the forces were Asp's, which proved extremely efficient in the first assault, but there were others as well in this attack. Two other new innovations since the Battle of Cocytus were the Diamondback and Fang, both of them were advanced k-bots. The Diamond back was shorter than the Asp, the Asp was thirty feet tall while the Diamondback was only eighteen. However, while lacking in size, it makes that up in weaponry accuracy and speed. Its weapons constituted of a high explosive, seeking, smart missile. That means it does a great deal of damage and it tracks its target and detonates its explosives after punching through the targets armor, usually destroying it with a single shot. The secondary weapon was its energy bolt machine gun. It accelerates super-charged bolts of deuterium, that has had its nucleus removed, and rapidly fires them in a straight line. The Fang had only a single weapon, a gauss cannon. The gauss cannon is one of the few weapons that have remained unchanged since the Great War. The only advancements it has had is its range and damage, both were increased by a factor of two. Thus, the Fang is a superb unit for laying down cover fire. Qaxar is a planet with scattered forests and almost as much organic plant life as Empyreon. But there is one crucial difference. The planet has no oxygen. The plant life is not the same type of plant life as on Empyreon. It is a harsh looking brownish red color. Instead of taking in carbon dioxide and expelling oxygen like normal plants, they take in nitrous- carbohydrate and expel a gaseous from of carbonic acid. Therefore, the units had a finite amount of time to perform their task before the atmosphere ate through their armor. Obviously, the Core had redesigned this Machine to produce units that could walk through this atmosphere and remain untouched by its corrosive nature. The timeframe the ADIT attack had was twelve minutes to land, take out the detection systems and get the hell out of there. That was asking quite a bit, figuring that the first assault took that long just to make it to the detection systems. This was a new endeavor into the world of death. "SCRAMBLE!" The entire attack force shot from the doors of the drop ships into the atmosphere that would deteriorate their armor relentlessly. With literally no time to waste, they hastily made their way to the entrance of the Machine.  
  
Paul heard an urgent knocking coming from the door. He put down his novel, marking his page, and slowly made his way to the door. Again the knocking came. "Calm down. I'm getting there." He said to the door, but he knew the person on the opposing side couldn't hear him. He opened the door a crack. A man dressed in all white clothes was standing there. The man was supporting somebody with both of his arms. Paul said, "What do you want?" "Open up. You're in danger. For the love of God, let me in!" His voice was panicky. "Look, buddy, just get your ass off my property before I blow your head off." Paul wasn't bluffing, he had a laser pistol in the kitchen on the refrigerator and a laser rifle in the bedroom. And he wasn't afraid to use either one. "Your wife's hurt badly." He said desperately trying to get in the house. "You're lying." "No!" He turned and showed him the person he was helping to stand. "Look." Paul was looking at the tilted face of a battered Emily. "Oh, my God!" He flung the door open and pulled the man in, assisting him in carrying Emily's nearly unconscious body. "She's been slipping in and out of consciousness for the last eight minutes." "What the hell happened?" Paul said trying in vain to conceal his worry. "They got to her before I did." "Who? Who're they? And who are you?" "Not now." They carried her into the living room and gently laid her on the couch. Paul looked over her injuries. The gaping wound in her ribs was pretty bad, but it didn't look like it needed medical attention. But what made Paul's heart sink were the huge and deep bruises that marked her ribs, and right thigh. He could only imagine the agony she was in when the bastard who did this struck her bad leg. She would be in indescribable agony tomorrow, Paul knew it. "She doesn't need a hospital. But you may want to wrap that bullet wound." The man said. "First, tell me your name." Paul said turning to look at him. "Not now, we need to get that wound treated." Paul stood up, grabbed the man by the collar of his white coat and easily elevated him from the ground. Almost growling, Paul grunted though his teeth, "No, asswipe! You tell me now! Or I'll rip your goddamned balls off and jam 'em up your fucking ass!" The man grew wide-eyed in terror. This man is unbalanced the man in the white coat thought. He must genuinely care for this woman or he wouldn't be acting like this. At first, he thought this was a marriage in which the woman was impregnated and they got married because of it. Most of the marriages after the war were similar to that story. Apparently, he was wrong about this one. "W- Wallace." He said nervously. This man could easily tear him limb from limb. "D-Doctor G-G-Gary Wallace." With that the man put him down. "I'm Paul Ham." He said, still a little angry, but he didn't know why. "I know." "Well, get something to help me bandage this thing then!" Paul said sharply. Emily became conscious again. With half closed, bloodshot, eyes she said weakly, "Paul?" "I'm here honey." Paul said soothingly. "It hurts." Emily said as tears welled in her eyes. Paul felt helpless. He bit his lip to hold his tears back. He would kill whoever did this to her. Gary returned with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, some clean white rags, and some heavy tape that he gathered in the kitchen to form a makeshift bandage. He placed one of the rags below Emily wound and poured the hydrogen peroxide over the gouge. The sudden sting of pain shot through Emily like a knife. Wincing, she was thrown from the realm of unconsciousness. The hydrogen peroxide didn't fizz, no infection. Paul placed two of the rags over the wound and taped them on. Primitive, but it would work. Emily tried to move, but shot back down when she tried to move her leg even an inch. "Alright, Gary. Emily's awake. Now, what the Hell is going on here?" Paul said putting emphasis on 'hell.' With a strengthening voice, but still weak, Emily said, "Yes, what's going on here?" Gary sighed. "The people who took are a top-secret agency called ADIT." A flush of guilt flashed over his face. "How do you know all of this?" Emily said. "Well for one, I'm a member of ADIT. Secondly.I don't know how to say this but.I am one of the people who ran tests on your son." He seemed so full of guilt that he would just simply overflow with it and his guilt would spill on the soft cream-colored carpet. Please, believe me when I say this. I never hurt him in any way." He knew that this was a highly emotional subject and he wanted to save himself as much as the boy so he began to quickly ramble that he wasn't responsible for anything they did to him. "Honest, I was only a lab assistant. I didn't have any say in the treatments or the tests. He was holding his hands up to his face to protect himself from an attack but none came. He looked at Paul, he was sitting on the edge of the coffee table and gripping the edge so hard his knuckles were turning white. Apparently, he had wanted to kill Gary, but he must have thought it wouldn't be worth the effort. "I would have brought the boy with me when I broke out, but I wouldn't be able to get him past the guards at the back gate. Otherwise, he would be here right now. I'm sorry." He was still nervous. "Get on with your story!" Paul snapped at him. "These people are powerful, more powerful than the government. They're above the law. If you try to go public with this, they'll have you killed in the name of galactic security. If we get your son out of that place, you'll have to move, and fast. You'll need new identities. They will hunt you down and kill you. They have no compassion for life, they'll kill you just to watch you bleed." Gary was shaking violently. He pressed his hands into his lap as hard as he could to try and cease their vibrations. "I think it would be better if you don't know too many of the details." Paul and Emily said nothing. Gary looked at them and understood why. The shock that their life was basically over stared them in the eyes and froze their thoughts. "I think I know where you can go to be safe from them. It's." Before he could finish his sentence a knocking came at the door. Quietly, he said, "Don't get that, it may be them." "Upstairs." Paul whispered. Gary stealthily made his way to the steps and ascended them, while, Paul half-carried Emily along the same route. Emily kept wincing with every step, trying not to scream. BAM! BAM! The knocks were harder this time. Time seemed to stand still. The stairs seemed to never end and that any second the men in black suits would burst through the door and kill them all. Then they were standing in the upstairs foyer. "Take Emily, go to the room on the right, go out the window, and jump to the garage roof. If I don't come back in two minutes, climb through the window there and get the hell out of this place." Gary followed his orders. "I'll be back honey, I need to grab something." He ran down the steps and out of sight. Emily didn't think she'd ever see him again and her heart seemed to gain five hundred pounds. Climbing onto the roof they heard the door smash in and somebody yell, "Hit the floor!" But that comment was followed by a barrage of weapon fire. Emily tried to climb back into the house but Gary held her back, "Let me go! He needs help!" "You can't help him! If you go back there you'll be killed for sure!"  
  
Paul wasn't sure how many of them he hit, at least one, maybe two, could be as many as three. Always assume the lowest. He told himself. There were six of them, all in black suits. What is with these guys and black suits? He was holding the energy pistol that was on top of the refrigerator. He didn't like hiding, but that was all he could do right now. Hide. Hide and wait. He checked his shoulder. A shot grazed his shoulder when he dove for cover. It wasn't bad. It didn't even hurt too much. Apparently, the shot only skinned him. "Come on out Mr. Ham! You're surrounded! Throw the gun away and come with us peacefully, we won't hurt you!" One of the men shouted so Paul would be sure to hear him. Paul saw three shadows fall across the curtains in the living room. He was surrounded. He took careful aim, and took one of them out with a shot to the back, or was it the front, he couldn't tell, all he saw was a silhouette. The other two men fell to the ground to make smaller targets of themselves. But Paul knew the structure of his house, an advantage to him. He took out another, the shadow was tossed up in the air and came back down and didn't move. That's three, three more. There were eight shots left in the chamber before he'd have to recharge it. The third shadow stood up and tried to run away but Paul blasted him before he could get too far. Judging from how he fell, Paul figured that he had fallen of the porch and hit the cement patio twenty feet below. He felt dirtied each time he pulled the trigger, but these people were going to kill them. Paul had less than two minutes to get out of this deadlock before Gary and Emily left. The stairs were twelve feet away. He could make a mad dash for them while firing at the men. No, that would be almost like suicide. He quickly thought of a plan. Ripping off his shoe, he threw it at the kitchen window. The glass shattered. Paul ran for the stairs firing as he went, hoping that he would hit someone. He made it to the steps and he bolted up them taking three and four steps at a time. He almost ran to the window but he bolted for his bedroom instead. He tore open the closet and wrenched out the laser rifle inside. Then he ran for the window.  
  
Staring at his watch Gary was waiting for the two minutes to be up. Then suddenly a man came barreling through the garage window. He jumped off the rafters and into the open backseat making the vehicle bob up and down violently. The man shouted, "Drive!" It was Paul. Gary tramped the accelerator and the hover car sped through the garage door. Gary turned the vehicle onto the street and pushed the machine to its limit. After a few minutes of high-speed driving, Gary looked behind him. There was nobody there. They weren't being followed. He let up on the speed a little, but the car was still going far beyond the speed limit. Still catching his breath, Paul pulled himself into the sitting position and strapped himself into the seat. "Dammit!" Gary blurted from the front seat. "What?" Paul asked. "I left my gun in you kitchen!" "What was so important that you almost got yourself killed?" Emily demanded. "I figured that we might need some weapons so I went back and got the pistol and the rifle." Paul answered, still short of breath. "Are you hit anywhere?" She asked compassionately. "They just grazed my shoulder. Its nothing." Paul assured her. "They must have been unorganized, I took out four of them, maybe five." "FIVE?!" Gary shouted in surprise. "More likely four." Paul said. "But still, those men are trained killers! There's no way, unless you have the best luck on the planet, you could kill five of them!" "I took care of that one in the library." Emily pointed out. "But that second one would have killed you." Gary reminded her. Changing the subject Paul said, "Where are we going?" "We have to get your daughter before they do." Gary said solemnly.  
  
The mad dash to the gate of the Machine was performed in less than five minutes. They didn't even bother to stop at the gate, the Asps fired their photon beams at the door and blew it apart in a fury of metal and fire. The atmosphere had already taken its toll on the units. The lighter Diamondbacks were degenerating at a faster rate than at first suspected. Their hulls were down to less than sixty percent. That would almost mathematically eliminate their chances of survival. But they were not called back. The attack force needed all the firepower they could get. Running at full speed, they burst through the vacant space where the door once was. The welcoming committee stared at them with their weapons trained on them. But the ADIT units fired the first volley. The combination of the Asp's rapid-fire laser, the Fang's high-powered gauss cannon, and the Diamondback's missiles, the first wave was easily pushed back with minimal casualties. The scene was very similar to the assault on the first Machine. A wall of ADIT units pushing back a swelling force of barraging Core units, but this was quite different. The Machine was pumping units out several times faster than the first assault, and this time the ADIT had to work with a time limit. Progress was excruciatingly slow. Since this Machine was in better working order than the other, it was able to replenish its forces at an alarming rate. Since it took them five minutes to cover the distance between the landing zone and the Machine's gate, they were only left with two minutes to destroy the detection systems and that time was ticking away fast. Forty seconds. "Faster men!" The leader shouted. "We can't waste any time!" Their destination stood merely thirty yards away, but it seemed like it was thirty miles. It gleamed like a beacon in the night. The multitudes of Core units never ceased coming. When one died, another came in to take its place. The shootout lasted for seemed like an eternity. Twenty seconds. Ten yards now. Maybe they would be able to destroy the detection systems and get out before they degenerated completely. The Core's huge numbers were playing to ADIT's advantage. The hallways could only row of twenty units and they kept becoming clogged with the huge numbers the Machine was pushing into constricted battlefield. The ADIT units were arranged so that one third of them could fire at the same time. The rest were for replacements. Five yards. Fifteen feet. Ten seconds. Fire and smoke seemed to meld into one sinuous being, flowing left and right, up and down, as if it had a mind of its own. Shrapnel rocketed through the tunnel like tiny airplanes, pelting both sides with showers of white-hot metal. Five seconds. "Blow the hell out of it!" They had reached the detection systems. Three Asps bolted into the room and began to strafe across the banks of computers sending sparks and circuitry scattering through the room. In mere seconds the entire array was wiped out.  
  
"The detection systems are down!" "Charge the quantum lasers!"  
  
"Pull back! Pull back!" The leader shouted. They turned their heels and took off for the drop ships.  
  
"The attack force is clear of the Machine!" "Fire!" The twelve Enterprise's all fired their quantum lasers at the Machine. The blue lasers slammed into the Machine blowing it apart. The lasers were directed in such a way as to throw the explosion away from the units on the ground. Minutes later the drop ships docked with the proper ships, with only a few open seats, mostly for  
  
11  
  
The Enterprise could be used as a cruise ship if it needed to. It had a separate cabin for each of its one hundred twenty crew plus several hundred more for the ground attack crews it sometimes held. To keep the crew from going insane on long voyages, a recreational facility was placed in. It had everything from a swimming pool to an open wet bar. Louis was relaxing by the poolside with a glass of his favorite scotch over the rocks. After that last attack, he desperately needed to unwind. His head was swarming with thoughts of the previous assault. He swallowed more of the drink he held in his hand trying to erase those brain cells. Then he saw Elise walk over the edge of the pool with a towel wrapped around her. She removed the towel revealing a dark blue bikini that seemed to have been made for her. The fabric revealed the curves of her large breasts, revealing a long line of cleavage. She obviously knew she had a great body. Louis' eyes widen at the sight of her nearly uncovered body. He shifted in his seat, trying to fix the crotch of his pants. His gaze was transfixed on Elise as she dove gracefully into the water. She swam across the surface with a fluidity and beauty that Louis had never seen before. He kept his eyes on her body as it cut through the water. When she reached the other end she stopped turned around and went back the other way and Louis never let his gaze stray away. Elise pulled herself from the pool, dripping wet. She picked up the towel she had dropped earlier. As she dried off her dark hair she noticed Louis watching her. She stopped for a moment but continued after a few seconds. Again she wrapped herself in the towel. Louis was still hypnotized by her body and he still followed her with his eyes.  
  
Sitting down at the bar located in the same room as the pool, Elise felt refreshed after her quick swim. She loved the water. She loved to just float on the surface for hours on end. The man tending bar was Derek Fisher. She knew him quite well from the amount of time she spent here. "What'll it be?" He said cheerfully. He was the type that always had something to smile about. The ship could be blowing up, and he would still be smiling because he had a good drink in his hands, or for some other reason. "The usual Derek." She said with her sweet, almost musical voice. "Gotcha." He said and quickly began to mix her drink. He placed the glass on the bar top. "Put it on credit as usual?" He asked. Whenever someone purchased something in the recreational facility, they could either pay there, or have it removed from their pay. Having it removed directly from their pay was the most common used since not many people carried money with them on these military expeditions. She reached for the drink and said, "Yep." She took a sip from the glass.  
  
"Ya know, they say that that vodka is the worst alcohol for ya." Derek commented, because she always ordered a vodka martini. "You always say that, and I always tell you that I don't care." She said. "Your only twenty-three and you probably have a worse liver than I do." She wasn't a heavy drinker, it was just that Derek drank far less than she did. "Bite my ass." She said jokingly. She took another sip from her drink and turned around in her stool, using the bar as a backrest. Talking over her shoulder, "I think that guy over there's got a thing for me." "Which one?" Derek said, looking over the small crowd of people. "The one beside the pool." "You mean Lou?" Derek said surprised. "I'd never expect him to even take second thought about a women." "I think he was staring at me when I was swimming." Elise said after taking another sip from the vodka martini she had. "Who wouldn't? I mean you've got a killer body. He's probably got a hard- on the size of a watermelon." Derek said as he cleaned some glasses. Elise chuckled. "I know him a little bit, enough to talk to him. But I don't know him that well." "Well he's a hell of nice guy and one of the smartest I know." Derek said, placing his elbows on the bar top and leaning over it to be able to talk to her better. "Nice guy you say. It might be a good change of pace after my last three boyfriends. They were all dickheads just looking for a hot piece of ass."  
  
"If that's what you're lookin' for, he's the man. He has about as much dickhead in him as I have woman in me." Standing up Elise said, "See ya later Der." She walked over to Louis. "Go get 'em."  
  
Sitting in his seat, Louis was feeling sorry for himself. Another opportunity blown, and what made it worse, she had seen him staring at her, now she probably thought he was a pervert. He quickly downed the remainder of the scotch and placed the glass on the table beside him. The ice bounced of the sides of the glass making tink- tink sounds. He stared at his hands in his lap. He was broken from his chance when he heard someone speak from the chair to his left. Startled he nearly jumped out of his seat. Looking to the chair and Elise was sitting there looking at him with her beautiful eyes. Louis felt his heart accelerate. She had thrown the towel over the back of her chair leaving her bikini exposed. "I said, hi." She said sweetly. Nervously Louis replied, "Hi." His armpits were beginning to sweat. With a smile on her face she said, "I saw you looking at me." Louis felt his face grow red with embarrassment. He was breathing heavier by the second. "You saw?" "Yes." She sipped her drink. "Then I figured, here I am, single, and judging by the way you were looking at my body, you're single. Why not try it out?" Louis was speechless. He never, not in a million years thought this would happen. "Would you like to join me for dinner at my place?" Elise said smiling. This was his chance. Don't blow this, he told himself. "Y-Yes. S-Sure I'll have d-d-dinner with you." Gooood job. Nice first impression. He said to himself sarcastically. She stood up, and sipped more of the concoction she had. "Room two-oh- three, seven o'clock. Don't be late." She said as she walked away, sliding her hand across his chin. Elise finished her drink and returned the empty glass to the bar and left.  
  
Louis nearly exploded in jubilation. He felt like he could float away on a strong breeze. He returned his empty glass to Derek at the bar, aware that he had the biggest smile across his face. 


	2. Renaissance of Destruction 2

Part 2  
  
Escaping Paradise  
  
You can see, but you can't see death But you can now sense his breath. Coming closer you can feel You now know death is real. -Whispers on the Breeze  
  
Knowledge is power, we have all heard that little piece of wisdom. But when you learn something scary, can you unlearn what you know already? -Whispers on the Breeze  
  
Run, if they can't find you. Run, till you can run no more. Run, just hope that when you stop, You have run far enough. -Whispers on the Breeze  
  
Confused, I walk through my house. I had another dream where I am trapped in the gray room with the sphere in the middle. But I wouldn't call it a dream. I don't really know what it is, but it scares me to death. Those."dreams" are very strange. Normally, when I drink myself into a drunken stupor, I don't revisit the battles I've been in. But last night I was drunk out of my mind and I still had that strange "dream." All I remember is seeing the sphere and hearing a few scattered words flash through my mind although I now they didn't come out of my mouth and there was nobody else in the room. I can remember the sound of those words. They were in a voice I feel I should know. "Help.Mo.y." I remember distinctively. But the words that stick out the strongest I'll remember until the day I die. Not because of their content, but because of the emotion they were spoken in. "They'll.k-kill me, .help." They were spoken in a voice so fraught with emotional agony and mental torment that they broke my heart, and I woke up crying. I want nothing more than to help that person that is in that place. But I don't know where to begin. I am so confused.  
  
Chris no longer sees the darkness that encompasses him. He sees pictures in front of his eyes where the empty blackness should be. They are bad pictures. People getting killed, blood, so much blood. He would give anything to see the blackness again.  
  
"Where are we going Dad?" Helen asked as she walked out of the school. Paul could not think of anything to tell her. He could tell her the truth. Assassins are hunting us and they want to kill us. Like he was going to tell her that. "What is it Dad?" Helen asked again. "Just wait." Paul told her. Helen climbed into the backseat. Paul followed her. She looked at the man in the driver's seat. "Mommy, who's that man?" She said with a ring of alarm in her voice. "This is Gary Wallace. He's a.doctor." Emily told her. "Why is there a doctor here?" Helen said perplexed by the situation. "Listen, sweetie. We need to tell you something, and you may not like it." Paul said to her. "Am I sick or something?" She said with a little bit of fear in her voice. "Oh, no, nothing like that. Do you remember the men that came to our house dressed in the black suits?" Paul said trying to ease her into the revelation. "Yes." "Well those men kidnapped Chris. Mr. Wallace here knows where they are keeping him and he's going to help us get him back." "Oh. What's so bad about that?" Helen said. Paul nor Emily could think of anything to say that would answer Helen's questions. Even though Helen didn't completely understand how dire the situation was, Paul didn't want to tell her anymore. "Buckle up. We may have to go just a little fast." Gary said staring at the approaching vehicles in the rear view window.  
  
Louis knocked on Elise's door. He looked at his watch, eight minutes till seven. He liked being early for everything. The door opened, Elise stood there looking like a goddess in a dark blue blouse and black velvet skirt. A pair of diamond earrings in each ear accentuated the pure beauty of her face. He was dressed in the nicest clothes he had. A pair of light brown khakis and a button down dress shirt. And for some reason he felt like he was underdressed. "Louis!" She sounded surprised. She opened the door entirely and stepped to the side. "Come on in." Louis stepped across the threshold and Elise closed the door. He turned to her and said, "Traditionally, this is where I would tell you have a nice place, hand you a bouquet of flowers, and tell you how beautiful you look. But saying your place is nice is an understatement and I don't have any flowers. So I'll skip to the end. You look absolutely gorgeous." "Why, thank you." She said blushing slightly. Even though all of the cabins were exactly the same, Elise keeps hers clean. The cabins were mainly one room that contained a bed, a holovision set, a dining table, and a small kitchen. Soft beige carpeting except by the kitchen area where it changed abruptly into ceramic tile covered the floor. Which was identical in design to every other cabin on the ship. Whenever there was a mission that required the use of the Enterprises, the personal used the same room every time. It was a time saver. It would take a long time for everybody to be assigned a new room with each excursion. And it saved time from having the people pack and unpack their belongings on each mission. A pleasant scent of pine air freshener clung to the air. The fragrance seemed to untie the knots that entwined themselves in Louis' stomach. Louis relaxed. "Do you like steak?" Elise inquired. She walked towards the oven, and assured herself that the food was not turning Cajun. "Yes. Is that what we're having?" "Yep. How do take it?" She asked bending over, testing how far they had cooked through. "Medium well." Louis stood ten feet behind her, admiring the shapeliness of her body. "Good, then they'll be done at the same time." She closed the oven and stood erect. "Would you like to sit down?" She motioned to the cushioned chairs at the dining table. Louis moved to the seats where Elise was headed. He pulled a chair out for her and gestured for her to sit. She smiled sweetly, and sat. Louis pushed her chair in and walked around the small table and sat opposite Elise. The table was only designed for two people to sit at, because of that Louis was only a mere three feet away from Elise. He enjoyed this closeness. He could almost feel the smoothness of her skin, almost taste her luscious lips, almost. His thoughts began to trail away from reality. His gaze was fixed on her beautiful green eyes. "Louis?" Elise said. Louis snapped out of his daze. "Did you say something?" "Do you like music?" She repeated the question he didn't hear. "Yeah." She stood and went over to the small stereo across the room. Looking through her selection of music she said, "I don't have much for this type of situation." Still sifting through her collection. "What do you have?" "Mostly Earth rock from their sixties and seventies." She paused on a title but kept going. "Good taste." Louis commented. He could NOT stand the Earth's modern music. It was just a bunch of queer looking guys dancing around on stage, some of them lip-sinking to another person's voice. It was a load of crap. More often than naught, the modern bands didn't even write their own music. Louis could not tolerate people who made money from other's ideas. She removed six mini-discs and inserted them into the stereo. She rapidly programmed the songs she wished to hear and played them. Afterwards, she returned to the table. "What'd you pick?" Louis asked. "Like I said, I don't have much for this kind of situation, so I just picked some of the softer stuff. Pink Floyd, Eric Clapton, Cream, Don Henley, Dan Fogelberg, and Hallowed Grounds." Hallowed Grounds was one of the few bands on Earth that made music just for the sake of making music. They didn't care if the music they made would make money, they just made what they wanted. And Louis liked that. They were very recent, only a few years old. In spite of that, they had an army of fans. Mostly their music was acoustic with an orchestra playing with them, but occasionally they made a heavy song, like "Sail Down." "Are you sure that little thing can give off enough sound that we can hear it?" Louis said about the stereo. "I have a surround sound system hooked up. We would be able to hear it even if I turned the volume almost all the way down because each of the speakers I have connected has its own equalizer and volume control." Elise said. Louis looked around trying to see where the speakers were. "Sounds nice." The psychedelic sounds of Dark Side of the Moon carried through the room. It sounded like Pink Floyd was playing for them live the sound was so clear but Louis knew that was impossible because every member of the band was six feet under. Then the oven's timer buzzer kicked on. The annoying buzzing was in complete contradiction to the calming effects the music had. Elise shot out of her seat and quickly walked to the oven and turned off the ear rattling noise. She spent a few moments in the kitchen fixing their plates. She returned and handed him a plate with a medium sized steak with a pile of sautéed onions piled next to it. They each eagerly consumed their meals.  
  
Whipping around the front of the building Gary flung the hover car around with ease. The engine whined as Gary pushed it to its limits. The vehicles giving chase were gaining. They were obviously capable of faster speeds in their juiced up vehicles. Gary would have to outmaneuver them in the city. The pavement shot underneath them so fast that the dashed lines appeared to be a single, straight line. It was noon, there would be very little traffic on the street. That could play to their advantage or it might not. Gary yanked the wheel and threw the car onto Main Street. The two black hover cars that were chasing them had split up. Only one was behind them now, and he was closing the distance between them fast. The other one must have cut off on another turn in an attempt to cut them off. Paul looked at Helen sitting next to him. She was frightened. Her fingers were digging into the seat cushion trying to hold her still. In the passenger seat, Emily was behaving identically to Helen. Gary was grinding his teeth as if he was using every muscle in his body to control the speeding car. He had a look of a madman on his face, eyes wide, nostrils flared. Paul looked back through the rear window in time to see a man lean out the passenger side aiming for them. Ducking, he grabbed Helen by the shoulder and yelled, "DUCK!" Three shots were fired in rapid succession. Two hit the trunk and the other passed just inches over the back of their seats. If Paul hadn't ducked, he would have taken that shot through the back. Gary slowed slightly and swung a hard right. He was trying to pull the black car close enough so that when he took a turn, their pursuer did not have enough time to react and take the turn and allow them a clean getaway. It was a simple trick, but the only one Gary could think of. The engine seemed to be screaming at Gary to slow down. The buildings around them were blowing by so quickly Paul couldn't tell where one building ended and another began, it was just one big gray blur. If a pedestrian happened to be walking in front of them, Gary would be moving to quickly to react. He prayed that the streets would remain clear of people until they lost their tails. Behind them two more shots rang out. Paul drew his pistol and returned fire. His shots missed their marks miserably, while their pursuers' shots hit the rear bumper and blasted through it. Flying through an intersection, the other black car came hurtling from the left side. Gary saw it and swung a turn away from it. The one giving chase almost t-boned the other black car and ended the chase right there. But they weren't that lucky. Now they had two dogs on their tail. Two against one, Paul didn't like those odds. Trying to exercise his plan Gary slightly decelerated allowing the black cars to get almost along side them. More shots rang out. Paul fired back.  
  
The road Gary was moving on now ran along side a steep mountain to the left side. One of the black cars pulled along the right side of Gary, plugging up his escape route. The other boxed him in by riding his bumper. Since the black cars could outrun them, they had nowhere to go. Gary looked out his window. The man in the passenger seat pulled out his weapon and was aiming it right at his head. Sweat poured off of Gary in such an abundance that he thought he would shrivel up from the loss of water. He heard a shot ring out, not from the man in the other car, but from Paul. His shot ripped through the window and smashed through the gunman's arm. Blood shot from the wound and he dropped his weapon. The gun struck the pavement and skipped away. Taking advantage of the moment, Gary slammed the hover car into the side of the black hover car beside him. The impact made Gary's, and probably everybody else's jaws slam together. The black hover car was sent into a violent counter clockwise rotation. Nearly the same instant, the twirling hover car careened into the other and caused it to flip up into the air from the high speeds. It came crashing down on its top, surely injuring the passenger and driver if not killing them. Then to add insult to punishment, the spinning car slammed into the crippled hover car sending this one into the air like the last one. However, this hover car did not hit the road again, this one rocketed into the hillside spraying sparks and torrents of rocks into the air. When it finally hit the ground, the energy storage unit ruptured, incinerating the entire vehicle in a huge explosion. Gary still drove above the speed limit but not as fast as he was. Trying to catch his breath he asked, "Is everybody ok?" "Yes." Paul said, also trying to catch his breath. Emily relaxed her grip and looked at her hands like she was amazed that she was still alive. "I.I think so." Helen just nodded. She was still scared stiff. Her nails still clawed into the seat cushion. Paul just now noticed the wind whipping through his already wind-tossed hair. The excitement had numbed him. "Good shot back there Paul." Gary said, not really being sincere, just trying to keep a silence from falling over them. Gary hated silence. "I got lucky." Paul replied with modesty. Lucky, yeah you got that right. Gary thought. You got very lucky, that guy was about a half a second away from wasting me, and ending this joyride. "What do we do now?" Emily asked. The adrenaline that was pumping through her body had ceased and she began to feel the unimaginable pain that was pulsing from her right thigh. Now it was only a tingle. "We need to find a place to hide until tomorrow." He spoke without peeling his attention from the road ahead of him and behind him. Wary that an ambush might strike at any moment, but he knew it would take some time for ADIT to react to this turn of events and reassign some men to take care of them. Despite knowing that bit of information, he was still paranoid. Take no chances he told himself. "We have a summer cabin out near Tear Lake." Paul mentioned. "No way. That would be the next place they would look." Gary gunned that down. "But it's not in our name." Emily rebutted. "We share it with some friends of ours. Our name is nowhere on the deed." Gary couldn't think of anything to say to reject that idea. "That's where we'll go then." He didn't like it but it was the only thing that came to his mind.  
  
The meal was delicious. It was a long time since Louis had had steak. Elise was obviously a good cook. The bluesy rock of Cream's "Sunshine of Your Love" caressed their ears. They had talked all through the meal about their favorite styles of music, books, and movies. Louis had found that she shared many of the same preferences and tastes with him. "Let's see, worse date I ever had, huh?" Elise said, searching for the most embarrassing date she'd ever had. It was part of a little game they were playing back and forth. She thought for a moment, "That would be a few years ago with a guy named Chuck. I was wearing a thick white blouse without a bra because the heat was unbearable. We were supposed to go to a restaurant than a movie. Well, anyway, about halfway through dinner. I had a few drinks in me and I was feeling pretty good." "Let me guess, you got drunk out of your mind and did a lap dance in the middle of the restaurant." Louis said jokingly. Elise laughed at the comment. "No. But when I went to get a drink of water, I spilled it on myself and you can just fill in the details from there." She laughed at her own misfortune. "So, right in the middle of dinner, you give him a peep show." Louis said half laughing. "You should have saw the people's faces, they women were shocked and the men were shocked too but they wanted to see more." Elise added to the slight comedy of the situation. "I don't think I can top indecent exposure. But this one time, on my first blind date I was picked her up in my convertible. We were going across town to see the new James Bond film, which I'm proud to say stunk, when are they going to stop making those movies?" Louis asked rhetorically. "Like I was saying, I was driving her home when I couldn't remember where she lived. I spent the next two hours driving aimlessly around the city, needless to say, she was pissed when I finally got her home." Chuckling, "Not as good as mine, but still funny." The music changed. Now it was the soft rock mastery of Dan Fogelberg. Smiling from the stories they told, Elise stood, "Help me carry these dishes to the sink." Louis stood and grabbed the remaining plates, glasses, and silverware. She was standing in front of the sink with her back to him, as if she was lost in thought. Reaching around her he placed the dirtied flatware in the sink. Elise turned and looked into his eyes. Her gaze froze him in place it was so stunning. An eternity seemed to pass in a blink of an eye as he stared into her green eyes that seemed to be burning with passion. Without a warning, Elise quickly locked her lips to his, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and didn't let go. At first Louis stiffened at her unforeseen attack but soon he reciprocated her actions and accompanied her in the embrace. Louis wasn't sure if it was he or if she was the one who started but they were slowly moving towards the bed, stripping each other as they went. They never broke their kiss for more than a second or two. Now they were standing beside the bed. Things were moving so fast Louis couldn't think. Elise slid down his body and sat on the edge of the bed. It's been awhile since the last time Elise has been totally willing to make love to another man. She slowly lay back on the bed. It is the hypothalamus that is responsible for regulating the pleasure and several other basic needs of the body. Right now, Elise's hypothalamus was working overtime. She was lost in a world in which only one emotion prevailed, pleasure. Louis never considered himself good at lovemaking but obviously Elise thought so. After what seemed like hours, but was in reality only three short minutes, they were finished. Exhausted, Louis rolled over and lay beside Elise. "That was incredible." Elise said, again trying to catch her breath. For a few moments they remained motionless, enjoying each other's company. Hallowed Grounds was now playing. The rhythmic chords of "Lonely Hour" drifted across the air like flower petals on a pond. Louis knew these lyrics quite well: ".if all things must pass, I just want you to last. Then the ghostly choir sings, this is your lonely hour..." For some odd reason, Elise was filled with the unshakable dread that Louis would suddenly shoot up off the bed, pull his clothes back on, and bolt for the door, while saying things like, "Look at the time, I have to run." Or, "It's been great, I'll call you." But her fear never manifested. When he finally stood up, it wasn't with haste or the desire to leave. After they redressed, they became entwined in another peaceable conversation. Time seemed to slip away faster than normal as if a cataclysmic explosion had torn a hole in the time space continuum, consequentially altering the flow of time. By the time Louis had realized what time it was they had been talking for over three hours. Looking at the clock Louis was stunned at how late the night had grown. "Whoa, it's after midnight!" He stood. "What?" Elise was surprised as well. Not wanting the night to end Louis reluctantly slipped his shoes onto his feet. Louis didn't want to run out of the room in a hurry. "I really enjoyed this Elise. I'd like to see you again." "How about tomorrow I come over to your place for dinner." "That'll be fine, but I'm warning you, I can't cook." "Just as long as the food doesn't look like fungus, I won't mind." "Then it's a date." He gave her a kiss and left the cabin. When Louis left, Elise walked over to the stereo and turned it off. The music must have stopped playing over an hour ago, but they were so engrossed in each other, they didn't take notice. No man had ever affected her so strongly so quickly. Leaving the dishes for morning, Elise went to bed.  
  
The next two Machines were taken out with relative ease. Neither had been able to produce any sort of attacking units resulting in quick destructions of both. Together those two expeditions required only a total time of five hours including the four hours that was required to travel between the two planets. Five Machines were destroyed, only two remained. The crews prayed that both would be in the same operating condition as the last pair were. Both of them were completely useless. But that was only wishful thinking. Everybody knew that they were extremely lucky with the diminished capabilities of the five Machines that were destroyed. None were operating at their peak potential. If a Machine did function at its zenith, it could produce more units in a single minute than all of ADIT's facilities could hope to manufacture in a day. Machine number six was in a unique location. Not on in a frozen tundra, or in the middle of a desert, or on a high mountaintop, it did not have a terrestrial foothold. It was located in the middle of space, in a massive emptiness between the planets Coravi and Uttergat. The vastness of this area was so large that to scan the entire area it would take the Ranger, the ADIT's longest range probe, a grand total of six years to scan the entire area. And this Machine was located right dead smack in the middle. There it would not be affected by gravity as much as it would be elsewhere. Logically, this was the best place to put the gargantuan facility. This gave them the most trouble locating. With more than four hours till they reach the destination, the crews had time to kill before the assault. Most of them spent that time on the recreation deck, others just slept the time away. The toll that was taken by the acidic atmosphere of the planet of Machine three was only now being fully rectified. Which was important, all units that were available would be needed to deal with the final Machine. Two Machines left till the Core threat is crushed once and for all.  
  
2  
  
The gray room again, no men in white suits crowding the computers. It's just me, the sphere, and the presence within. Though nothing is happening right now, I'm scared. Not scared of what will happen to me, because I know this is only a picture in my head and no harm can be done to my body. It is not the sphere or the presence residing inside that I'm frightened of. It's the unknown that frightens me now. I don't know what is in that sphere, I don't know if it intends to hurt me or help me, I just don't know. And it is always what remains unseen that is the most frightening. Again I feel words flashing through my brain in another's voice. Though this time they are not broken. They convey more emotion than I thought possible for a simple voice to carry. They wrench at my aching heart. They sound tortured, and a feeling that stretches beyond simple sadness to an overwhelming emotion that man has not created a word for. But I feel it now, the presence feels it as well. So I know that emotion exists. Hopelessness, despair, desperation, none of these comes close to the emotion that is being projected into my head. Even if it was possible to add emotions together and create a summation of all that were given, the total of those that came to my mind would be far too insufficient to describe how I feel right now.  
  
Darkness all around. Deep impenetrable darkness so thick it seems tangible. Macabre images float through the air as if it was a movie screen. It feels warm inside this horrid place yet there is a frightening coldness burning inside. Not frightening because of this place, because of a feeling inside. Emily came out of her daze with a cold sweat pouring out of her pores. She shivered violently even though the interior of the convertible was warm. For a moment she didn't know where she was, but once she saw the coniferous trees blazing by in moving blur she came to her senses and remembered where she was. She quickly glanced at Gary and Paul nervously to see if they had seen her shivering. Gary had his attention solely on the road. His left arm was propped on the door with his elbow sticking through the area in which the window would be if it were up. His head rested on his upturned palm. He seemed to be hypnotized by driving. Paul was playing a game with Helen. He would quote a line from a movie or holovision show and she would have to tell him the movie or the series from which the line was drawn. Neither of them seemed to have noticed her quaking hands or the prominent layer of sweat that clung to her face. She was not dreaming, she was sure of that. So she concluded that she had a vision. She had not had a psychic experience in over a decade, not since the final days of the Great War. "Mommy." The words of a child escaped from her lips. She was not responsible for the act, it was an outside force. Then she was hit by a revelation, though she was not sure where it had derived itself from or what logic she had used to reach it, but she knew that it was the truth. Chris was talking to her. That must be the truth because she was never as sure of anything in her entire life as she was sure of this. Chris was alive and for a moment their minds almost touched. She felt tears of joy burning their way down her cold cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to see her son again, to hold his little body close, to feel the grip of his hand around hers. She missed him terribly. Suddenly she was hit with a tidal wave of sorrow. She felt like she was at the nadir of a deep pit from which there was no escaping. Then an intense rush of hot pain surged through her and brought her back to reality. She pulled up the side of her long skirt and examined the hideous black and blue bruises marring the length of her right thigh. The pain was almost intolerable, but she was partially glad she possessed the discomfort because it dragged her out of the hole of depression that she had dug into the recesses of her mind. At one time, her legs were perfect, or as close to perfection that a human can be. It was as if God himself was jealous, or he had a twisted sense of humor, for after the Battle of Cocytus she would carry a reminder that perfection is fleeting. She traced the prominent scar with her pointer finger. Now she had horrendous marks on that leg as well, but she knew those would fade. But now she had also become aware that her beauty would not last, like time it would eventually disappear. Startling herself at those thoughts she realized she was only thirty. She still had plenty of time before her looks left her. And even then she knew that that would not be the end of the world, she would still have Paul to live out the remainder of her life with. That thought had more of a calming effect than twenty shots of hard liquor could possibly do, without the hangover afterwards. Paul leaned forward between the front seats and examined the road ahead of them. "There will be turnoff just around that bend up there." He said pointing to the blacktop ahead of them. "The cabin is about three miles up that road." Paul added as he fell back into his seat. Gary said nothing, just shook his head to show that he understood. Emily knew he was hiding something more. She could feel it like it was as palpable as the white lab coat he wore. It was like icy razor blades running along her skin. Although being ethereal, Emily wasn't able to block the sensation out of her mind. Gary slowed and guided the hover car onto the smaller road leading to the cabin. The highway they had been following was at a higher elevation than the cabin was set at. Gradually the banks of evergreen trees invaded every few hundred yards by a deciduous of one breed or another. The road slowly descended to the cabin's valley. The more road that passed under them the more leaf-bearing trees spotted the forest of evergreens. About two miles further the trees were split almost evenly. By the time they reached the cabin, only deciduous trees were evident in the vast expanse of green. Gary pulled up along side the wooden cabin. It was small, only five rooms, a kitchen, a bath, two bedrooms, and a small family room. It was not a traditional log cabin, but it was made of wood, which in this day in age was rustic. The roof came up to a peak, running east west, about five feet above the ceiling. A chimney poked through the redwood shingles on the far side of the building. Paul was the first to get out. "She may not look like much, but she's a beauty on the inside." Gary was surprised on how well the man-made structure harmonized with the natural settings. The cabin didn't look like it was made here, it looked like it was grown, as if it was a rare species of tree. Paul walked around to the other side of the car to help Emily out of her seat. He draped Emily's right arm over his shoulder, wrapped his left arm around her, and pulled her slowly from the vehicle. Wincing as she took the first step out of the hover car, Emily nearly fell over but Paul had a firm yet gentle grip on her. The pain in her leg had subsided quite a bit since they had fled their home, but it was still too great for her to walk on. She prayed that her leg would be well enough for her to walk on it by tomorrow. Only able to fully use her left leg she had to lean on Paul as he led her into the cabin.  
  
The assault on this Machine was very different from the rest. For one, this attack was in space. Another was that the Enterprise's could only had a total of ten space fighters in their hangers each. That was only one hundred twenty total attack units. The assault must be well coordinated to minimize casualties to nearly zero. The space fighter that the Enterprise's carried was the Pulsar. The Pulsar was loaded front to back with several weapons. The main guns were rapid- fire disruptor cannons, which were designed to knock out the target's electronic systems. To back those up, two Rapier guided missile banks were placed on board. The Rapier was a missile with its own guidance system on board so it kept tracking its target even if its mother ship was destroyed, and they had an extremely high yield in conjunction with unprecedented speed and maneuverability. To add to the already deadly efficiency of this machine, four automatic lasers were placed along its side to give extra protection.  
  
Elise was not selected as one of the pilots to engage in combat in the following battle. She was ecstatic when she heard that news. She hated flying, plus it would give her more time to herself. Sitting at the bar, sipping at her favorite drink she decided to leave ADIT at the first chance she had. She wanted more out of life. But there was a problem. According to the government she didn't exist. Elise Jacobs had died when she was sixteen in a car accident, well at least that's what the authorities thought. After that "accident" she started her career with ADIT, thinking it was what she wanted. But now she knew she was wrong. Then her thoughts turned toward Louis, and her mood lightened. After serving one of the mechanics Derek came over to her and started asking questions about her date with Louis. "How'd yer date go?" "You were right, he is a nice guy." Elise said as her lips formed a smile. "So it went well." It was only occasionally that Derek spoke a grammatically correct sentence. "You didn't say he was so sweet." "That's 'cause guys don't say other guys are sweet, it just sounds fruity." He leaned closer towards her. "How.sweet," He cringed as he spoke that word. "Was he?" "He could've stayed for breakfast, all he had to do was fall asleep." "You don't waste much time do you?" Derek said half laughing. "I don't know what happened, one minute we were eating, the next minute we're laying on the bed." Derek's eyes opened and he waited attentively for more details but none came. "We have so much in common it's uncanny." "Un.canny?" Derek wasn't that intelligent. "Weird." Elise gave him a one-word definition, though she knew he would forget it in a few hours. "What's 'dat got to do with anything?" Derek was perplexed, or in his case, confused. "I think I'm in love with him." Elise said, almost mumbling it, like she was ashamed to admit it. Stunned Derek nearly blew a blood vessel. "YOU?!" He was not angry just utterly astonished that she would say that. "You'd be the last person I'd expect to fall for someone!" "We didn't have meaningless sex, there was something more to it." Elise said, not believing Derek would understand how she felt. He was the drifter type. Moving from meaningless relationship to meaningless relationship like they were stepping-stones across a creek. "I think that would be the only way he'd sleep with me, if he felt something for me too. I don't know why, it just seems to fit him." She was no longer talking to Derek but rather to herself, as if she was attempting to achieve a higher understanding of the matter by telling herself the story. Even though Derek had never had meaningful sex in his life, he knew what she was talking about, he just didn't see the point in it. Because of that he never saw the point in marriage either. He can't stand being with the same women for more than three weeks let alone for several years. "Are you going to see him again?" He asked expecting to hear her say that she didn't know what she was going to do. "I'm going to his place for dinner tonight." Elise said. Derek was left speechless. He began to think of reasons why she was acting like she was. Normally, when she became flustered or confused by her emotions, she ran away. But the best explanation he thought of was the fact that she had three straight boyfriends that treated her like a piece of meat. It was disgusting even by Derek's standards. And when the first man that comes along and treats her with respect she falls head over heels for him. That had to be it, or at least part of the reason, but he could think of nothing more to fill the hole.  
  
The voice is ringing through my head though I'm still awake. Am I awake? There's the saltshaker, feels solid enough. I open the jar and pinch some salt between my forefinger and middle finger and place it on my tongue. Tastes like salt. But I need more proof that I'm awake. I pinch my arm. Ouch. Yes, I am awake. Then why am I still hearing this voice that is not mine? Am I going mad? I don't think so. I can still make rational decisions all the time and I still have my memories but I wish those would go away, even if it leaves me a blithering idiot. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe it will end my torment. The voice is the same from the visions I've been having lately. "Help me." It says in a pathetically weak voice. My heart feels like its being torn in two. I want to help to help that little boy but I don't know how. Blackness. "What the hell was that?!" I shout out in surprise. I didn't feel anything for that split second of time. Not even my steady respiration. It was like someone flipped a switch in my brain that turned off my consciousness. Blackness. Completely shocked I shot out of the armchair I was sitting in and began to look around the room with a haste I've never before felt. I was alone in the room, just as I had thought. Blackness. Longer this time. I'm standing in the kitchen. But I was in the living room. An unsettling fear ties my stomach in knots. I walk back towards the living room. Blackness. Again I moved. Now I'm standing outside. This is the first I've left the house in over three years. The bright midday sun burns my eyes. Blackness. I'm sitting in my hover car. This thing hasn't been run for so long I think the electron accelerator's frozen. The fear in my gut grows into paranoia. What is causing me to move without my mind knowing about it? A cold sweat pours down my forehead. Blackness. "HOLY SHIT!" I shout I'm sitting in the middle of traffic on a major highway. The light shining into my car is died a crimson from something. "What in God's name is going on?!" I yell expecting no answer in return. I look panicky out my window. There's a huge shopping center two hundred or so yards off the side of the highway. I have no clue where I'm heading. Blackness. I wake up flying at eighty miles per hour down a deserted stretch of highway in a woodsy area. Reflexively I slammed the brakes. The reverse propulsion system kicked in jetting thousands of pounds of air out the front end of the vehicle and stopping it. I rip my hands from the wheel as if it were a sacrilege to keep them there. "What the hell is going on?" I mutter under my breath. Blackness. Moving again in the hover car. I am off of the main highway and traveling down a two-lane road. The trees are so dense on either side of me that I can hardly see ten yards deep through them. I slam the brakes again and come to a complete stop. The paranoia fills my brain to the brim. I reach for the door handle to get out. Blackness. I'm not standing outside my hover car but instead I'm driving down the two- lane road once again. A clearing is just ahead.  
  
Emily was massaging her right thigh. With each press pain flashed through her mind, but with each successive compression, the pain weakened. After a few minutes it was only a dull throb. Good enough to walk on. But she knew it would only last a few hours until the muscles in her leg tightened up again. She didn't care she had a reprieve from the agony and that was good enough for her. Gary and Paul were talking back and forth about the advancements in the military technology. They weren't engrossed in the conversation; they spoke to kill time. Paul was on the couch sitting with her and Gary sat in an armchair across the room from them. Helen was watching the holovision on the other side of the room. The family room was the largest room in the cabin at twenty feet by fifteen feet. It was the focal point of everything. The only entrance was through the middle of the wall facing the road that led into the valley. Facing that door, the kitchen was joined to the right by an opening and directly behind would be the hallway that led to the bedrooms on either side and at the far end, the bathroom. Since she would be the first one to see anyone trying to get in the door she had the pistol. Right now it was sitting on the end table beside her.  
  
Emily peered between the closed window drapes and saw a hover car coming toward them. Panic shot through her veins like it was part of her blood. "Somebody's coming." She said trying to mask her panic. "How'd they find us so quick?" Gary said as he pulled the window drapes aside and looked out. An old hover car drove up and stopped right along side theirs audaciously.  
  
Paul had grabbed the rifle and was now staring at the hover car. "Why did it stop there? That makes no sense. If they know we're here wouldn't they try to be less conspicuous?" He said in a near whisper. "Yes, they would. This isn't their style." Gary confirmed. The driver's door was flung open and an old man exited the vehicle looking dazed and confused. "That's the crazy old man that lives next to us." Emily pointed out. She was as perplexed as how he had gotten here as Paul or Gary were. "What the living hell?" Paul said. "I thought he never left his house." The old man walked straight for the door with a blank expression on his face. His eyes were empty of all thought and emotion, if she didn't know any better, Emily could have sworn he was dead if he was lying down. "You know that guy?" Gary said. "Not really. He's a hermit, but he's also our neighbor, and in a suburb community like ours everybody knows everybody else and their business too." Emily said, but as she came to the end of the sentence her voice had a ring of anger in it. She hated people knowing her business if she don't tell them herself. The man walked up to the door and opened it, not even bothering to knock. Emily jumped and pointed the gun at him. "Stop right there!" She said aiming for his head. The tall man's lips moved but no words were emitted. He swayed back and forth like an upside-down pendulum. "Back up asshole!" Emily shouted trying to intimidate him but too much of her fear had spilled into her words. The man moved his lips, this time words spewed from them. Then Emily heard a voice so innocent that she froze in place. "Mommy?" It was Chris' sweet voice. Seeing the tall man speak like a child would be absurd and cause Emily to laugh, but this time no laughter exploded from her. "Chris?" Paul said behind her. He had heard the voice too and was probably as confused as Emily was. The expression on the man's face did not change, it was still gaping and void of feeling. The voice from his lips did not belong to him. "Daddy?" The voice sounded like it was quivering with the onset of tears. Emily was still staring in shock, unable to move. Then the voice said something nobody in that room will ever forget, not because of the content of the words, because of the intense emotion they conveyed. "Help me, Mommy." Know the voice sounded like it was in full- blown tears. The weak and innocent utterance was like an icy sword plunging through Emily's heart. She felt like she was going to cry. Hot tears welled in her eyes, but she was still unable to move a single muscle. At first Paul was deeply touched by this phenomena, but that quickly turned to anger. He would make everyone pay that had touched his son. The anger burned inside him with a fury that he had thought impossible. Gary was speechless, he was daunted by the happenings of the last few moments. He was not sure what they meant, but he knew they were significant.  
  
I wake up again, this time my vision is slow to regain focus. There is something close to me. It looks metallic. Getting clearer. I can almost see it now. Totally clear I see it. "Holy shit!"  
  
The blank expression faded from the man's face and he seemed to be regaining consciousness or whatever he had lost to end up like this. He looked straight at the gun in Emily's hand, shouted in fear, and grabbed his chest. Emily still was unable to move. She watched in a terrified awe as the man grabbed his chest while making horrid sounds of agony. He fell backwards into the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. His hand relaxed and fell to the floor. Gary rushed over to his side and pressed his fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse. He moved his hand and placed it under his nose. Then he shook his head. Paul was the first to say something. "What happened?" "I think when he woke up or whatever happened, he saw the gun and he panicked and it caused a heart attack." Gary said in a saddened voice. He didn't like seeing people die, though he killed two people in the lab when he escaped. But he kept telling himself that was self-defense. Emily was still locked in place. A look of terror mixed with a look of question melded together across her face. Paul walked over to her and placed his hand on the pistol. Emily snapped. She flinched away from his grasp, she kept whipping her head around as if she was desperately trying to locate something. Her breathing was erratic. "Calm down, baby." Paul said trying to soothe her. "I.he.Chris.him.dead.Chris!" She was babbling almost incoherently staggering backwards. She dropped the pistol. "Grab her! She's going to pass out!" Gary shouted. Paul moved in to grab her before she could fall. Too late. Her hyperventilating caused an abrupt drop in the amount of oxygen going to her brain and she lost consciousness. She fell away from Paul and struck her head hard on the floor when she landed.  
  
It was still early, only four o'clock, but Elise wanted to talk to Louis awhile before they ate. She wanted to talk about their relationship and where it was headed. Even though they've only had a single date she felt the time was right. She has had this talk twice before, and both times the man didn't want to see her anymore, which was what she had wanted. But this time she desired the opposite, though she did not know why. Elise walked in a near daze to Louis' apartment thinking about what she would say to him. She arrived at his room still not sure what she was going to say. She knocked. Like she was, Louis was not selected to take place in the assault. Louis answered the door. "Elise." He said surprised that she had arrived so early. He looked at his watch. "You're early." "I thought we could have a talk before we ate." Elise said trying to bring a smile to her face but she failed. Louis' face went slack. "Oh." He said glumly. "I know. You had second thoughts about last night didn't you?" All of the happiness he had possessed when he opened the door and saw Elise had been drained from him. "Oh, no! Not that." Elise had said something wrong or pushed the wrong button. "I thought last night was incredible." She spoke honestly. "Thank goodness." Louis said as if a three-ton weight had been lifted from him. "I thought you came here to break up with me." He was infinitely relieved. She stepped across the threshold and Louis shut the door behind her. "But I do want to talk about us. Where our relationship is going." At first she wanted to be discreet, but she could thing of anything else to say in place. "Oh." "I thought about this all day and I can find no other way to tell you but I'm going to give it my best shot." Elise said not daring to make eye contact. "Go on." "I think we have something special, and I want us to get serious about it." She used the same line she used the two other times she had this talk. "Yes. I think so too." Louis agreed genuinely. "You do! That's wonderful!" Elise's worry was assuaged by his concurrence. "I feel so much better now." The dining table was only a few feet away and Elise pulled a chair out and sat down facing away from the table. Louis grabbed a chair and placed it in front of Elise and sat down. He took her hands in his and squeezed them tenderly. Elise looked into his eyes for the first time since she had entered his room. She leaned forward and kissed his lips as if to say 'thank you.' "I can't say how good it feels to get that off my chest." She said with a buoyancy in her that it seemed that she would just lift off of her chair and float around the room. "I love you." Louis said as he gazed into her emerald eyes. "I've loved you since the first moment I saw you." His confession had stunned Elise. She didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure if she loved him in return or not. "It's okay if you don't feel the same way I do, I just wanted you to know that I genuinely love you." He spoke with a sincerity that surprised Elise. Not sure what to say Elise just nodded. Louis smiled sweetly and gave her a tender kiss. Remembering that he had to cook, Louis stood up and walked to the refrigerator. "Since you're here, you can decide what we can eat for dinner." Louis said as he walked into the kitchen. That's something I can answer. Elise thought to herself. "What do you have in there?" "Chicken legs, lamb cutlets, and a roast. But it's a little late to start the roast, it will take too long, unless you want to eat around nine." Louis said jokingly. "How about the lamb?" Elise replied. "Lamb it is then." Louis said as he pulled out two frost covered packages from the freezer. "We'll be eating around seven or so. That gives us three hours to kill." He placed the frozen meat into the pans and programmed the oven to do the rest of the work. Elise had never felt happier in her life. She had a man that loved her, truly loved her for the first time in her life. She stood and walked over to him. A smile drew across her face. Wrapping her arms around his waist she pressed her body against him. She rested her head on his chest. Using one arm Louis pulled Elise's warm body closer, and with his other arm he stroked her dark auburn hair. Standing in each other's arms, feeling their hearts beat, it felt as if they were a single entity but with two individual thoughts. Their embrace felt right. As Louis slid his fingers through Elise's thick hair he knew that they would end up in bed together again. He could feel it as if it passed through the air like falling leaves from autumn trees. Despite the heated thoughts of passion drifting through his mind, he thought of the extraordinary child that revealed the locations of the Machines and he sympathized for him. If the rumors were true, and if that the escaped scientist was telling the truth to the parents then they were in some deep shit. The parents could go to the press and blow the entire ADIT system out of the water, but they probably wouldn't do that because they had no proof. Anyway Louis looked at it, the parents were dangerous to ADIT and they had to be silenced as quickly as possible. He was not a vengeful man but for some reason he wanted to see the family before they were killed, just out of pure curiosity. Though he personally wanted them to go free. He had seen the pictures of them, and there was something about that woman, something that he could not grasp, something that lay just beyond the spectrum of his senses, something that eluded him like a fly evading a swinging hand, just something.  
  
3  
  
When Emily woke up, it felt like she was beaten senseless, again. A knot had swelled up on the back of her head the size of a large marble, but she did not know when she had hit her head. However, if it was of any consolation, her leg was feeling much better, only causing slightly more discomfort than it usually does. She would be able to go with Paul without him worrying about her every step of the way, and that was a relief to her. Her thoughts were muddied by her pounding headache, and her vision clouded by the dull, unrelenting pulses of pain from the back of her head. Despite the hindrance to her sight, she was able to discern from her surroundings that she was laying on the couch in the living room. She tilted her head to the right and saw a blurred figure sitting not too far away. "Paul?" She said to the obscured silhouette with more vigor than she thought she could muster. Nearly immediately the form moved. "Emily?" It was Paul, and he sounded worried, or was it concern that shaped his voice, Emily could not tell because her headache inhibited her thoughts. "I'm thirsty." Her entire mouth felt like sand. Slowly, her vision cleared. She was able to see that another person was sitting at her feet. She was also able to see Paul move from the place where he sat and shoot into the kitchen. The water was turned on. Then a few seconds later, the water running through the faucet was silenced. Paul returned with a cup of cool water, but Emily didn't care if Paul gave her dog piss to drink, as long as it was something wet. Paul placed the cup on the table next to him and helped her to achieve a reclined position so she can more easily drink the cool liquid that he had brought. Paul handed her the cup. Moisture had already formed along the sides of the plastic. Not completely sure of her coordination, Emily held the cup in both hands and tilted it into her mouth allowing its contents to slowly pour in. The cool water stung Emily's teeth slightly and evicted the aridity that had taken tenancy inside her mouth. It was almost ambrosial the way it felt when the moisture had reclaimed what the dryness had once occupied. Pulling the cup away, her thirst quenched, she let out a sigh of relief. "You need anything else, sweetheart?" Paul asked in a soothing yet worried voice. People's voices could tell you so much about how they feel. Only a few gifted souls could totally mask their true emotions in their inflections. Emily could tell how Paul felt just by listening to him speak. It was almost as easy for her as it was to read a book. Paul was not one of those people who could disguise their voice. Emily shook her head. "What happened? Why do I have a pounding headache?"  
  
"You passed out and hit your head on the floor." Another voice said from the other side of the room. It was Gary. Emily's vision was almost clear now. She could make out Paul's handsome face except that the details were fuzzy. She could see him turn towards Gary, but he didn't say anything. If he did it probably would have been along the lines of, 'Nice job of being sensitive, asshole.' Maybe he wouldn't have added the 'asshole' part. From the bathroom Emily heard quick footsteps rushing down the hall. Then she heard Helen. "I thought I heard Mom talk. Is she awake yet?" She burst into the room and looked straight at her mother, who was still not entirely clearheaded. With a speed and agility only a child possesses, she shot through the small gap between the couch and the repositioned chair Paul was sitting at, spun one hundred eighty degrees and bent over and hugged Emily. She performed that feat before Emily could react to her sudden appearance in the room. Grasping tightly around her shoulders, the eleven year-old let her emotions go with an ease that many adults try to but rarely succeed. Maybe the child could demonstrate their emotions easier because the shunning of society did not yet tainted their growing minds. "I was so worried about you Mom." She was near tears. "There's no reason to worry, it was just a little bump on the head. I'm fine now." She lied. She hated lying, but she was trying to calm her daughter. But it failed. It might have been because Emily was unable to completely quell the uneasiness in her voice. Helen burst into tears. They were not tears for her mother, or for herself. They were not tears for her missing sibling. They were not tears of pain, sympathy, or agony. They were born of the accumulation of the facts that their lives that were forever changed, she had lost everything except that what she had with her when she left school, and seeing the old man die before her eyes. Paul stood and removed Helen from Emily and consoled her in his strong yet tender arms. Rocking her slowly back and forth while making ever-softening shhh sounds. He was able to return Helen to the commanding position over her emotions, and her sobs quieted, and then fell silent completely. Looking Helen in her red, puffy eyes Paul asked, "You okay now?" Helen nodded her head, not risking opening her mouth to omit words, for it may cause another outburst of tears. Emily watched Paul as he handled their daughter's emotions as if he was carrying a dozen eggs, with gentleness and care. He was a good father and Emily was glad that she had found the right man on her first shot with a serious relationship. After they had been married for a few months Emily began to think that maybe she had rushed into things and that Paul would become harsh and abusive later in their marriage, but those were unjustified fears. He has never raised his hand in anger and has only raised his voice in their most heated arguments, which she could count on a single hand, which she thought wasn't bad for eleven years. She considered herself very lucky now that she has had a chance to look back over her decisions. Helen walked away and sat in a chair at the far end of the room, probably to calm her emotions even further. Paul couldn't blame her for reacting the way she did. So much has happened over the past few days and it simply overloaded her. He turned his attention towards Emily. Sitting on the edge of the couch, he took her hands in his. A loving gaze fell over his face as he stared into Emily's eyes. "I love you." Emily said. He kissed her forehead. "I love you too. And I promise you that we'll get Chris back." He released her hands and stood to face Gary, who had his back turned so as not to appear vexatious. To Gary he said, "We'll have to have a plan to get into that place, get Chris and get out without attracting too much attention. Plus if you get killed before we get there, we'll be lost." "You're right." He didn't sound enthused about his treachery to the people he had worked for, but he knew that he was taking the morally right path.  
  
Dinner was exquisite, but Louis thought it wasn't nearly as satisfying in comparison to the love they made before. Which was far better than the first time. It was more rhythmical, more sensuous. The image of her seething body falling and rising in gratification was etched into his memories. The way she felt when her sensations culminated into an explosion was eternally engraved in his mind. Breaking his chain of thought and the conversation they were carrying, the intercom shattered the moment and chatted away like a wounded bird. "All selected pilots report to their ships, all selected pilots report to their ships. Attack will commence in forty minutes." Though the closest intercom speaker was located thirty feet from Louis' room, the sound it generated was heard clearly from the table Louis and Elise sat at. Then as abruptly as the interruption began, it ended with a click and the patting of feet running down the halls. "What chances do think we have?" Elise asked about the upcoming battle. "If the Machine was debilitated as badly as the last five were then we have a good chance. But if the thing is firing on all of its cylinders, then we might as well fill out our wills right now." The prospect of their possible deaths stared at them with a malevolence that would make a person with a weaker mind than they possessed crawl into the fetal position in a dark corner of the room. But Elise and Louis faced death every time they went out on these missions, so they were used to it. They batted death from their minds easier than shooing away a pesky insect.  
  
"What do you think'll happen?" She was mildly concerned about the outcome of the battle, which was mystifying to Louis. This was her fourth year with ADIT, surely by know she would be apathetic or at least indifferent to the possibility of an early visit to the grave. Something was odd about her that had changed since the last time he saw her. Answering as honestly as he could he said, "I think the Machine will be just like the other's. So there's no reason to be worried about it." "Oh." Elise said, but she was distant. "What's wrong?" Louis asked trying to unravel the truth that she was hiding. "It's nothing." "It has to be something, or else you wouldn't be so concerned about if we win or not." Louis didn't like to waste time, he went straight to the point. Her gaze was fixed on her empty plate. Her hands were nervously tumbling around each other on the table. Something was bothering her. "I want out." "Out of what?" The ambiguity of her statement worried Louis. She might be having second thoughts of their relationship, but that wouldn't make sense.  
  
"I want my life back." She wanted to be rid of ADIT. "But the government's files say you're dead, there's no way you can go back." Louis tried to face the painful truth. "I don't care, I want a family of my own, while I'm young." ADIT placed infertility drugs in the food that they fed their employees. That is so that they don't have to worry about any children that may be born from the employees. If you wanted to call them employees. Louis wanted to propose to her right there, but it was too early, way too early. Anyway the situation didn't feel right. He wanted it to be romantic when he asked her to marry him. "Whatever you choose, I'll stay with you all the way." He placed his hands over hers. "Thank you. I can't say how much that means to me." She looked at him and forced a thin smile. "But." "You don't have to say anything, being able to see your beautiful face is enough for me." "I." Elise swallowed hard. "I'm in love with you." Louis felt like jumping out of his seat and celebrating with a dance, but he controlled himself. The unadulterated joy he felt when Elise confessed her love to him was surging in him like a benevolent storm. He felt lighter than a feather sitting in his chair, looking at Elise's emerald eyes. "Will you help me get out of here?" Elise said. "I know that's asking quite a bit, but I won't be able to do it by myself." "Of course I'll help you." Louis was faced with a dilemma, and wished not to tell Elise about this until he knew they were strong enough to handle it.  
  
"What do you mean they can't be found!" "We can't find them. They killed the last agents that were sent to silence them." "The kid." "What about the kid?" "He's psychic, he'll know were they are." "But Walter's dead and Gary's gone." "Then bring in other scientists. Do I have to think of everything?!" "Yes, sir." "Tell Mr. Holliday to assemble his crew, he's to come here ASAP." "Of course, sir."  
  
Detected: Arm Vessels -unidentified- Activate: Resource Synthesizing Activate: Resource Storage Facilities Error: Storage 4e 5m 1m malfunction -[reroute resource conduction]- Complete: Resource Production Activate: Production Racks {-Interceptors (1-30)-Fighters (31-45)-Cruisers (46-50)-} Error: Racks inoperable *1 3 4 6 9 15 24 31 35 38 41 42 45 48 50* -[shutdown faulty racks]-  
  
4  
  
The massive hanger doors opened revealing the black emptiness of space. The Pulsars slowly left the security of their respective Enterprise's almost reluctantly. Their mission is to distract the enemy fighters while the Enterprises move in and fire their quantum lasers at the Machine. With the Machine down, the smaller units it produced will be easier targets. Once the Machine is down, the fighters or whatever it makes will be unable to effectively communicate between each other and resultantly, their coordination will be compromised. By groups of five they left the confides of the hangers, spilling out into the vast vacuum surrounding them. Outside the hangers, the universe seemed to explode around them. It was entirely psychological of course. It was the effect of leaving a smaller area and entering a larger one. The stars, for a split second, shone brighter than they ever did before. Several thousand meters to their left the Machine floated in the middle of the void. It was so dark, the only details that gave its position away were the absence of stars in its proximity, and the faint almost invisible glare that the Enterprise's lights projected onto the harsh metallic surface. The Machine seemed to be staring at them with the hatred of a demon. It seemed to be throwing off literal waves of icy animosity. It chilled the pilots to the bone, tying their intestines in knots so tight that it seemed that it would be impossible to relax them again. Then like hungry dogs rushing to the sounding of a dinner bell, the Machine dumped out dozens of fighters that seemed to be screaming for blood. "HOLY SHIT!" One of the pilots shouted as his radar lit up like a Christmas tree. The radar on one of the Enterprise's was so cluttered with contacts that it looked like a single pulsing screen of green. Despite being outnumbered by a large amount and growing larger with every passing moment, the pilots had a few aspects going for them. For one, they were human, and everybody knows that no machine can out think a human. Secondly, they were organized. The swarms of units that spewed from the mouth of the Machine were in no way organized, no computer could coordinate that many targets simultaneously. Could it? One hundred twenty versus three hundred and growing. The odds weren't good, in fact they were down right terrible, but the pilots in the Pulsars were well trained and could take down several enemy targets before they were destroyed, but those were in the simulations. And simulations, no matter how accurate, were still far from the real experience. "All wings, engage enemy." The attack command was given. The Pulsars accelerated to top speed and streaked towards the growing mass of Core space fighters. The Enterprises fired their small anti-fighter cannons into the pulsating cloud of friendly and enemy forces. Surely, every shot made contact. It was like shooting the proverbial fish in a barrel, they were going to hit something. From the view of the pilots in the Pulsars, it appeared as if hell had unleashed its fury on this sector of space. Countless numbers of laser shots raced back and forth regardless of where the pilots looked.  
  
Louis was cleaning the table off while Elise relieved herself in the bathroom. That was when the news came that he didn't want to hear. Someone was knocking at the door. Knock knock. Louis slowly traversed across the room. He knew what the man on the other side of the door wanted. Louis just wanted to disappear. Reluctantly, he opened the door revealing the bearer of the unwanted news. "Mr. Holliday?" The man asked. He was young looking, probably nineteen. Blonde hair, blue eyes the classic woman's dream. But he was only about five four, too short to fully portray the appearance genetics had partially given him. He had a squeaky, nasal voice that almost sent chilly vibrations up Louis' spine. "Yes." Louis said flatly. "Mr. Doherty has ordered you to assemble your four man crew, you have been called up for a manhunt. You have ten minutes. I have a shuttle waiting for you. "I'll need more than ten minutes!" "I have my orders, and you have yours. I suggest you follow them." Louis didn't like this man. He was too sure of himself. Maybe that wasn't all of it. On some level the man standing before Louis deserved to be hated. He didn't know why but he felt it. He felt it in the hardness of gaze, the way he held his head as he walked. The blonde haired man left, leaving Louis to solve his own problems. It wasn't just a regular manhunt he was being placed in command of, this was a search and destroy mission. Last night when he had returned from Elise's apartment, he had found two men in his room and they explained what they wanted him to do. He was to go find the Ham family and silence all of them. That left him with his dilemma. He didn't have the heart to kill in cold blood, especially when his targets were completely innocent. But he couldn't disobey orders. Quickly he thought of three people and he would bring them with him. But a question kept nagging him from deep within his mind. Should I do the right thing, or follow orders?  
  
Outside the battle raged with more fury than an erupting volcano. Pulsars flew in erratic paths evading heavy weapon fire. Often the pilots had three and four bogeys harassing them. Streaks of blue, crimson, and gold tore through the battlefield as often as raindrops fell during a violent rainstorm. From a distance the spectacle would be breathtaking, but up close it was like living a page from the Book of Revelations. Only fifty seconds had expired off Father Time's master clock since the battle began, but to the pilots it seemed as if three hours had ticked away. It was at that point when the first Core cruisers were spotted exiting the gaping mouth of the Machine. Three in all, they immediately began to feel the sting of the heated battle when they broke free from the Machine. The action was so close to the Machine that many Pulsars were able to fly up into the belly of the thing and take out a few production racks while they were in there before they slammed into a steel wall, disintegrating their bodies instantaneously. Despite the gradual reduction in racks the Machine could produce with, nothing could be done to slow the speed at which the gargantuan mechanism expelled units. Up close, the Machine loomed over the battlefield the way a medieval king would watch the brutal games the knights would play for their honor and his entertainment. Its appearance was haunting, no lights whatsoever existed on its interior or on any part of its exterior. It still looked as if it wasn't really there and was only an illusion from the absence of light, and the coherent absence of detail. It looked as if a void had opened up and was not permitting any light to pass through its greedy jaws. But it was not an illusion or mirage, and many Core fighters and Pulsar pilots alike learned this harsh lesson when they were hurtled into the steely surface of the Machine destroying them. Each time a fighter struck the surface and exploded a small portion of the Machine was lit up, exposing a colorless steel gray surface with protrusions of the same hard steel that transformed the surface of the thing into a metallic forest. A forest in which the only life that prevailed were the microscopic organisms that clung to the sides of anything and fed off whatever minute amounts of nutrients that existed on their, most often, barren surfaces. Seven Core cruisers were active, firing their anti-fighter cannons attempting to knock out the invading Pulsars, but they were inflicting more damage to their own fighters than to the speedy Pulsars as they wildly evaded the energy blasts.  
  
On board the Enterprise named "Victoria" the action was the intense. Since it was the closest to the battle, it had sustained considerably more damage than the other eleven Enterprises, but it was still able to operate at its full potential. "Those Cruisers must go down now." Captain Richards announced to the crew that was on the bridge. "We can't get close enough to fire the quantum laser, sir." Mike Wells, the navigation officer, commented. "I don't give a damn!" Richards snapped. "Morris," He turned to face the communications officer. "Contact the 'Conquistador,'" The "Conquistador" was another of the Enterprises that were present at the ferocious battle and the Enterprise that was in command over the remainder of the fleet. "Tell them that we are advancing to remove the enemy cruisers. Then cut off the communication." "Yes, sir." Morris knew that what they were doing would get them in some deep shit with their superiors, but they would follow any orders Captain Richards gave them. The massive ship slowly accelerated into the flowing mass of fighters.  
  
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!" Captain Dumas, the captain on board the "Conquistador," barked into the communications device located on his seat. "Answer me 'Victory,' DAMMIT ANSWER ME!" He had given them no order to advance into the battle. The only order he had given was to fire at the enemy fighters with the anti-fighter cannons. "Sir, the 'Victory' has closed all of its frequencies." The communications officer said. "God dammit!" Captain Dumas smashed his fist into the armrest on his chair. The polycarbonate casing on the armrest shuddered with the impact but did not break. There was nothing he could do to stop the "Victory." He was powerless, and he hated being powerless. He loved to be in control of everything around him. It was like an obsession. Now someone had deprived him of that, and he was furious. He would make sure that Captain would never command another ship the rest of his career, that is if he made out of there alive.  
  
Plunging into the swarming mass of fighters the "Victory" had leaped from the frying pan into the fire. Several Core fighters slammed into the sides of the massive vessel. The ship shuddered violently when the fighters collided with it. The collisions only lasted a few moments until the spacecraft began to avoid the gargantuan frigate. The "Victory" looked like a Great White shark swimming through a huge school of miniscule minnows.  
  
"What's going on?!" Elise said in a commanding tone. Louis had rushed into the shower told her to get dressed; they were leaving. "No time to explain. We have to get to the docking bay." Louis had not told her why he had dragged her from his cabin and was leading her to the docking bay. Elise halted. "Dammit Louis! I don't like being left in the dark about anything! Now, tell me!" Anger flared in her eyes. He had seen her depressed, happy, tipsy, disconcerted, but he had never seen her hostile. Louis gave her an abridged version of what had transpired that forced him to pull out of active battle duty and into a manhunt. He had three minutes to get to the docking bay or he would miss his transport. If he missed his transport, he would probably be removed from ADIT. ADIT didn't like tardiness, especially on something as high in importance as this mission was. Realizing his predicament Elise said as she started to bolt for the docking bay, "Well then hurry!" Louis quickly followed.  
  
Herald Rager pulled hard to starboard, narrowly avoiding an out of control spacecraft hurtling towards him. Though the Core fighter had passed just inches from his Pulsar, he heard no sound. He knew space conducts sound at the same intensity as air conducts electricity. This was because sound requires a molecular medium to travel through. Consequently sound was completely nonexistent in the emptiness of space. That odd accommodation was difficult to adjust to. No matter where Herald looked, Core fighters filled his vision. They were outnumbered at least six to one now, and that margin was steadily increasing. Herald didn't see how they could possibly hope to knock out enough of these fighters so the Enterprises could get close enough to destroy the Machine, not when the Machine kept pumping fighters into the battle faster than the Pulsars could take them down. This was a losing battle, even though only four Pulsars were shot down compared to sixty Core fighters. A feeling of helplessness began to burn inside him. At first, it was only a small ember, hardly noticeable. Just a small inconvenience. But the longer the battle raged, the brighter and hotter that ember burned. It grew until it was a candlelight, then a torch, then a bonfire. Now it was a towering inferno, burning with all the heat that the fires of hell blazed with. His ability to hold that feeling down was proportional to the heat of the flame inside. He was straining with every once of his will power to keep fighting, but he knew he was nearing his breaking point. Then he would not just be fighting on orders, he would be trying to get out of the battle, even if it meant dying in the process, and Herald didn't want to die, not just yet.  
  
Elise did not know why she had gone along with Louis. The situation that Louis had explained to her did not sound inviting, but she had gone anyway. Why? She asked herself over and over, but every time, she drew a blank. Maybe it was because she was afraid of losing Louis. That thought chilled her to the bone. Maybe that was the reason why. She was afraid of losing the first man to treat her like a woman, instead of treating her like a piece of beef. Stepping off the elevator Elise nearly ran into a janitor that was mopping the decks. He had a gray beard and his hair was a matching shade. A few wrinkles marked his face around his eyes and by his lips. He appeared to be around sixty. She stopped suddenly, then sidestepped around him and took off. Louis was a few yards ahead of her. The janitor was shouting at them from behind. "Slow down ya' hoodlums!" He was probably shaking his fists at them to complete the cliché. But Elise didn't look back. She didn't care. Several questions kept running through her mind. Who was this 'kid'? Why is so important that his parents be killed? The former pressed harder against her than the latter. Maybe it was because he was only eight years old. That was all the information about the boy that Louis gave her. He told her that it was better to know too little in this situation than to know enough. That brought up another question. What was "to know enough" supposed to mean? But Elise knew that she would know the answer to this later, and that she would be terrified of the answer. A shiver ran the length of her spine.  
  
Pitching left, rolling right, nose-diving, Herald evaded enemy fire, but only barely at times. The towering inferno of emotion that burned inside him had grown in intensity to a flame of apocalyptic proportions. One so hot and furious that Satan himself would run in terror from it. He still was able to hold back that sense of helplessness. But not only was he fighting a losing battle on the physical plane, he was fighting one on the psychological one as well. He was becoming mentally fatigued from suppressing the urge to run and save his skin. Grayness had begun to cloud the outer extents of his peripheral vision. He was having difficulty concentrating on the controls under his hands. He could not give up, he must go on. Surrender is never an option. Then he saw the "Victory" rush into the battlefield, guns firing. Though it was sustaining heavy damage from its attack, it was shooting down Core fighters with its anti-fighter cannon just as easily as an eagle's wings cut through the air. The anti-fighter cannons that were mounted on all of the Enterprises had a maximum damage output high enough to destroy a mid-size fighter with a single shot. The Core fighters that were present were ancient in comparison to the Pulsars and therefore stood no chance against them, let alone the Enterprise's anti-fighter cannons. But what the Core fighters lacked in technology, they made up in numbers and an infinite supply of them. Upon seeing the "Victory" plunge head first into the battle a great deal of the fire burning inside him was extinguished. Though not all of the flame was eradicated, he could still feel it dancing across his nerves.  
  
Max sat in his office waiting for a call from one of his agents. Even though he was a part of ADIT, he had several agents that worked directly beneath him. They were used for spying, espionage, and countless other acts that would be too dangerous to his career if he were caught in the act. There was no way his agents could be traced back to him. The call he was expecting would be from Norman on the "United" Enterprise. Norman was watching Louis Holliday. The phone buzzed with activity. Max snatched the receiver from its cradle and brought it to his ear. "I am the door." The voice spoke from the other end, it was Norman. He said the first of a two-part message that must be given before either could speak. It was a way of making sure that they were taking to the right person. "I am the sky." His part of the message was to signify that it was him on this end of the line and that he was alone. "Mr. Holliday has just boarded his shuttle and will be arriving on Deneb in three hours." "Very good. How did he react to being assigned to the mission?" "He seemed hesitant. Therefore I believe that he may not follow his orders as efficiently as his file dictates. I suggest we locate another person to handle this." "No. If Mr. Holliday does not follow his orders we will activate his cerebral interruption device. Normally, I would find another person to handle a mission of this importance but we are strapped for time. We haven't been able to get the kid to find his parents for us and we have reason to suspect that they will be coming in the next day or two." "If they are coming so soon why don't we increase the security at the installation?" "Because we don't have the manpower and we can't be sure if they will show up or not. I don't have the authority to pull that many men off of other assignments onto security." "Is there a possibility that Dr. Wallace is assisting them?" "That is definitely a contingency we must prepare for. If he is helping them they have a very good chance." "Should we be worried about anyone assisting them other than Dr. Wallace?" "I don't think that will be a concern." "I don't like the idea of only having the existing security present when they show up." "Neither do I, but we don't have much of a choice in this matter." "I will contact you as soon as I have more information." Norman killed the communication. Max was lying when he told Norman that they had insufficient men to increase the security. The truth was that most of the extra manpower was under his control and they were gathering critical pieces of the Machines that were left in the debris. It was a giant conspiracy to create a Machine that would produce attack units for ADIT. Once they had a Machine, they could overthrow the existing Arm Galactic Empire and implant a completely militaristic government. A government in which only a few souls possessed control. It was all about power. Power and control. Those were the only things that mattered in life, and Max was very close to obtaining both. All he needed was the Machine, and his underlings were gathering the information he required to construct one. The prospect of having total dictatorship control was more exhilarating than sleeping with the most beautiful women in the galaxy. He was about to attempt to perform a task that a former Admiral (Max had forgotten his name) had attempted but failed. But Max would succeed where he did not. Max saw the problems in the old Admiral's scheme. The biggest problem was that he tried to capture an existing Machine. Max knew that that would take too long and would be time consuming. Instead, Max was going to build a Machine of his own. There were problems with Max's plan too, but Max knew of them. He thought that if he had an alternate course of action to fall back to, the problems didn't really exist. But there was one that he could not get rid of. There were several men that would be in control once they took over. Max knew that each of the others was devising a course of action that would remove the rest of the men in the circle so that they were the only one to have the control they all desired. Max figured that they could let a small child go for the sake of galactic domination. Max dreamed about how it would feel once he had totalitarian control. In each of these daydreams he was standing on a high pedestal while thousands of people lay abject to his authority. He woke from his brief fantasy. His pants bulged with an erection. He was aroused by the mere possibility of achieving his dream. Then he had second thoughts about just letting the kid and his parents go. That wasn't how a real dictator would handle the matter. A real dictator would kill the parents for interfering with the government and would kill the boy once he had been wrung clean of usefulness. That was how he would deal with this situation, he would be there to watch them die. The thought of exercising the control of an autocrat nearly made him pass out from pleasure. He imagined the face of the parents as he told them that he was the one who ordered the kidnapping of the boy. Once he hit them with that revelation, he would shoot them both. His entire body was shaking in delight. If a secretary or someone else walked into the room right now, it would look as if he was gripped by a seizure. They couldn't know how far from the truth that that was. Now he had the decision of where to shoot them and who to shoot first. It was almost too much. He would shoot them both in the chest, but he would shoot that pretty blonde first and see the torment in that man's eyes as he witnessed the life drain from his wife's body. Then he would kill the man. For several minutes he thought of how it might feel to kill two people, the sheer power that he would hold. He knew that he would hold the greatest power anyone could possibly command, the power over another's life. When his consciousness rose from his self-induced delirium, he noticed that his underwear was stained with semen. He needed to change his underwear so he pressed the intercom button on his desk to open a line to his secretary. He told her that he was leaving for his lunch break, and that he would be back in an hour. He had intentions of eating, but first he went to his cabin and slipped into a fresh pair of underwear. He took the soiled pair and threw them in his pile of dirty clothes. He decided that he would eat lunch in the cafeteria.  
  
Louis was wondering how anybody could follow these outrageous orders. Two other parties of men had already been sent after the Ham family. The thought that his colleagues even attempted to carry out these orders made Paul sick to his stomach. Then Paul remembered that when anyone joins ADIT, a small device is implanted into their brain. The cerebral interruption device. Paul had done a little illegal investigating into ADIT's computers. The cerebral interruption device, or CID, emits a small burst of electricity into the part of the brain that controls the conscience of the person. So that when they are given an order they will follow it to the letter if their CID is activated. But there was a problem with them. They also interfered with their ability to make rational decisions in a state of emergency. That was why the other groups were killed. They couldn't make proper decisions that the situation called for. Somehow, Louis had to find a way to not kill the Ham's and not to have his CID activated. He could not think straight. His mind was cluttered with panicked thoughts that showed no sign of quitting. But the CID also had a limited transmission range. If he could get out of that range, he would be safe from control. But Louis didn't know that range.  
  
5  
  
The time in the cabin was ticking away slower than Emily had thought possible. The hours that passed seemed like days. Looking up at the clock, expecting it to read five o'clock or later, she was stunned that it showed that the hands pointed towards twelve thirty. She let out a sigh of frustration. She was tempted to rip the clock off the wall and shake it to pieces as if she could will time to flow faster. She remained in control and did not tear the timepiece from its moorings on the wall. Gary and Paul were still discussing how they would enter the facility and retrieve Chris. Emily could care less how they got her little boy back, just as long as they got him back. The process meant nothing to her, but she knew that they would tell her what they were going to do so she would not have to be talked through it while they were executing their plan. Emily sat quietly at the end of the kitchen table sipping some black coffee and waited. She waited in a silence that seemed to have a life of its own.  
  
"Cruisers within range, sir!" Mike Wells shouted, raising his voice over the nearly constant rattle of the ship as it was being pelted with laser fire from all around. "Target the closest one and fire the quantum laser!" Captain Richards commanded. It took the quantum laser a few seconds to charge completely. The high- pitched hum of the electrons becoming excited was hardly audible over the louder crashes of the ship being attacked if you pressed your ear against the wall that separated the laser's chamber from the rest of the ship. The sapphire colored laser fired and made contact with its target nearly instantaneously. The laser only lasted a few seconds but the damage was wrought. The cruiser split in two and exploded. Bright blue flames covered the wreckage, as it was slowly fell to pieces and collapsed with another explosion. Not all of the pieces that exploded contained an explosive or combustible material. Those phenomena were because of the side effects of the quantum laser. The quantum laser caused the material's electrons that it struck to become super-excited. Thus it made the material highly explosive. Though the impact area of the laser was only five yards across, the side effect was carried throughout the entire target, but the larger the target, the less of an effect the beam had. That was why all of the Enterprises had to fire upon the Machines. It was too large for a single quantum laser.  
  
Herald didn't see the "Victory" fire its quantum laser, but he saw the ramifications of the beam. The Core cruiser exploded emitting a shockwave that was felt by every ship in the battlefield. His ship shuttered but held together sustaining very little inherent hull damage. With the "Victory" now fighting toe-to-toe in the battle, the odds just got a little better. But the "Victory" could not stay in this proximity for very long. Because of its monolithic stature every shot that was fired in its direction found its mark. Its hull integrity was dropping steadily. It may be able to last another five, maybe seven minutes tops in this unrelenting assault. After blasting a Core fighter and sending it to hell, Herald glanced at his radar. There was a huge mass of green contacts in the center of the screen, but a small dot registered well out of the battlefield. Herald's first thought that it was a crippled Core fighter that had drifted away from the battle. He knew it couldn't be a Pulsar because they had stealth plating, and it couldn't be an Enterprise, because the only one that had moved was the "Victory." Then the thing changed direction. That nullified the crippled fighter theory. Curious, he set out after it. Flying by the odd Core fighter slowly, Herald took a risk by decelerating. But when he sailed by the queer fighter without incident, Herald was disconcerted. Why hadn't the thing attacked him? He thought that maybe it had accidentally slipped into return fire mode. Herald lined up the stable target and fired. The lasers made contact on the ships starboard side, but it did not return fire or change course. It couldn't have slipped into hold fire mode because Core units were purged of that option long before the final years of the war, because they kept falling into hold fire mode in the middle of battle. So the Core Consciousness extracted that arbitrary setting. Herald believed that knowing your enemy was critical in making decisions in the heat of battle. Now, his research was paying off, but he still could not reason why the fighter was not defending itself. Then a question popped into his mind that had no logical basis. Was it defective? The production technology that the Core had possessed surely was adequate to produce a million units without a flaw in any of them. But he was staring at a faulted creation. How was this possible?  
  
6  
  
"No! I can't tell them where they are! You can't make me!" The voice coming from inside the sensory deprivation chamber was muffled a great deal but it was still audible. "Continue the probing, Dr. Terrell." Max stood in the far corner of the room that housed the sensory deprivation chamber that contained the kid. He had arrived just minutes ago, but he was not going to leave until the parents arrived and were dead. Dr. Terrell was an immense human being. To call him fat would be giving him a complement. He was obese. The rolls of fat hung over his tight pants like eaves overhanging a wraparound terrace. However, wraparound terraces are architecturally tasteful. This man's disgusting flab was not tasteful in the least. He reminded Max of a marshmallow that had been heated and resultantly swollen out of proportions. Dr. Terrell turned and looked at Max. His face was badly aged. He looked to be about seventy, but in reality he was only in his early fifties. Max was surprised that he had lived this long. His round face was accented by hideous globs of fat that almost dangled from the man's cheeks. He spoke. "I have made the connection, we can see most of what he's thinking." When the man spoke his face quivered like he was in an earthquake. The vibrations carried all the way down his throat making it shake like a baby's rattle. Resisting the urge to vomit Max hesitantly walked over to the computer he was working at. Max could smell the sweat that poured from the obese man's pores. The stench made Max want to run for the door, but he repressed that urge. "So what's he thinking?" "Well, we won't be able to see all of what he's thinking. The technology is still quite primitive. But we may be able to find where his parents are by asking him where they are." His face jiggled with every syllable he enunciated. Trying not to look at him Max said, "It's that simple?" "Normally it is. Since we are dealing with a child, we should be able to acquire the information you need." More undulations. "Well then what are you waiting for? Ask him." Max was growing impatient. Speaking into the microphone that transmitted his voice into the chamber that harbored the child. "Where are your parents?" He asked the question with more clarity than necessary, laboring over every sound so that the kid would not misinterpret him. The response was nearly instantaneous. "GET OUT! LEAVE ME, ALONE!" Those were the words that echoed hollowly off the walls. But the computer readout gave them completely different results. GET.can't tell.ME.where.ALONE.are The screen was reading a mix of what he was saying and what he was thinking. "The machine must be confused since he's thinking and speaking at the same time." The doctor stated the completely obvious with more oscillations in his facial skin. They're trying to see what I'm thinking. "What the hell?!" Dr. Terrell shouted. "He can't possibly know that we have tapped into his conscious!" When the man yelled, his throat and face shook with the fury of a storm tossed sea. "Maybe you damaged something." Max offered a possibility that might explain the recent happenings. "No, that's impossible. I can miss the target a thousand times punching through a billion nerve cells, but it doesn't inflict any damage at all, because the device is smaller than the nucleus and therefore any damage it causes is so miniscule the body doesn't even register it and it gets repaired too quickly to cause even the slightest scar tissue." Can't think, about that place. Mountains. NO! STOP! Can't let them hurt Mommy. That tear-shaped lake. STOP! NO THINKING! No thinking about that place. Think of something else. Favorite song. The boy began to run through the lyrics of a classic rock song from the seventies on earth. Max had heard of that song before but he could not place it. No matter. The boy had given clues to where they were hiding out. He phoned his agents to look for a tear-shaped lake with mountains nearby near the Ham's place of residence. They would get him an answer quickly and would relay that to the strike team being sent there as they spoke. He gave orders that they are not to kill them on sight. Max changed their orders to capture them and bring them to him. The strike team may think it odd, but those were the orders and they had no choice but to follow them. Closing the communication Max sat in a stool by the lab table. Running over the same old ground. What have we found? Same old fears. Wish you were here. Even without the music accompanying the lyrics Max eventually identified the song as Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here." It was an average song, too soft for Max's taste. He preferred the hard, earsplitting rock chords of the death metal bands of the Earth's nineties. He liked the music that got his adrenaline pumping with their relentless, uncoordinated notes. To him, that music represented reality perfectly. Reality was as harmonized as the random thrashing of a tree's leaves being swept in a violent storm. "Should we keep his thoughts under surveillance?" The behemoth doctor asked. Max had put his back to him so he didn't have to see his trembling blubber on his throat. But it did not help too much, Max was cursed with a vivid imagination. When the doctor spoke he could still "see" the quivering tissue. "Yes. We may find something else that could be useful." Max said, trying to repress the image of the fat man in his mind. "Very well. I'm hungry, I'll be going to the cafeteria for lunch." Dr. Terrell exited the lab. He don't need to eat, Max thought to himself, he could live for weeks on his own fat. Sitting at the lab table, watching the screen scroll down, revealing the child's thoughts. He repeated the same song four times then he jumped into another. Just about a year ago, I set out on the road. This song was alien to Max. Obviously, the kid was raised with that type music and it grew on him. Oh, Lord. Stuck in Lodi again.  
  
On the tail of an elusive Core fighter, Herald had forgotten about the stray he had found. His Rapier missiles were in the process of reloading so he fired the disrupter cannons at the slower fighter. The shots erupted from the laser's barrels with a short banshee shriek. Only Herald heard this noise because the metallic armor was a perfect conductor for the sound and the vacuum of space resisted the transmission of sound. The nanolathes that produced the Rapier missiles were working overtime. The nanolathes received its metal and energy sources from the Enterprises. Though only a finite amount could be stored on the Pulsar, its tanks could be refilled simply by coupling with one of the multiple resupply pods that the Enterprises had on board. A single tank-full of energy and metal could last hours under heavy battle conditions. The only reason the pods existed was in case one of the Pulsars was experiencing a resource leak or several other various contingencies that might fall upon the Pulsars. "Come on." He was growing impatient waiting for the missiles to be finished being constructed. He could fire the incomplete missile now, but it would be a total waste. The uncompleted ballistic would dissipate into trillions molecules, because the nanomachines had not yet connected all of the molecules into a single object. The only thing that Herald would gain from that would be pleasing his trigger finger. Hundreds of fighters battled all around him, explosions cluttered the battlefield like autumn leaves cluttered the ground in expectation of a cold winter. The risk of a mid-flight collision was very high. There was a good chance that one of your buddies could misjudge the distance he had to stop, or just didn't see you and WHAM, both your ships tear into each other like hungry wolves into a wounded rabbit. There wouldn't be much left of either ship since the anti-matter engines would rupture. The only thing that would mark where you perished would be the short-lived flash of light that occurred when anti-matter and matter combined. "Hurry up, damn you." Herald cursed the machine. He had a strong lock, all he needed now were the missiles. The computer flashed a message that meant the missiles were ready. Almost in the same instance he saw the screen flash ready, his fingers closed on the trigger that released the missiles from their bays. The ship kicked backward slightly as the Rapiers raced toward the Core fighter. The fighter tried to pull sideways and evade the missiles but the outdated vessel stood no chance. The missiles struck its engines rocketing debris hundreds of yards ahead of its final position. Glancing at his radar again to find another target Herald saw at least a dozen of Core fighters had drifted away from the battlefield. He didn't check any of them out, because he was sure that all of them were in the same condition as the first stray he found. In just a few minutes, the number of erred Core fighters had multiplied drastically. He could accept that the first stray he saw was deficient, but he could not believe that so many had been manifested defective. With a morbid curiosity Herald flew towards the Machine to inspect the fighters it was producing. Flying through the melee, he encountered another passive Core fighter. It slowly drifted away from him. Herald followed the peculiar fighter for a few seconds until it was literally vaporized by a shot from one of the "Victory's" anti-fighter cannons. His attention back to the Machine, Herald turned his Pulsar around one hundred eighty degrees. He fended off a few attacking Core fighters. Why were there so many of the fighters faulty? Herald couldn't answer that question. Unless.  
  
Ten minutes until landing. Louis felt his stomach tie itself in a knot. He knew he couldn't bring himself to kill another human being, he would not hesitate to kill a machine, but taking away a human life was entirely different. He would be a murderer. Becoming a murderer was something that he was not prepared to do. He looked over at Elise, who was sitting next to him. She looked as if she was lost in the same runaway train of thought that had gripped him and took him along for the ride. He placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed it assuredly, though he was not sure how assuring his touch could be in his state of mind. Elise looked at his hand then at him. A look of worry lined her face. She managed to give him a thin smile. Louis retracted his hand and Elise returned to her cluttered thoughts. The shuttle they were on was very fast. It took them only forty minutes to cover what the Enterprises covered in eight hours. However, the Enterprise class frigates were not designed for speed and this vessel was. The four members of the strike team were jammed in a small seating area. The intercom crackled to life, breaking everybody from their thoughts. "There's a change in your orders. You are to capture the parents, not to kill them, repeat, do NOT kill the parents, they are to be taken alive to the facility on Eridanious. If there is anybody else in the cabin shoot them on sight. Update, we have a fix on their location and currently have a surveillance satellite watching them this minute." Louis felt a great weight lifted from his chest. He didn't have to kill them after all. But then a rush of negativity fell over him like a breaking wave. Something was wrong. Normally, these were search and destroy missions, but they were to capture these people now. Louis didn't know what it was, but he knew that they could not arrest them. He felt that a fate worse than death awaited them if they were captured. Somehow, he had to sabotage this mission.  
  
The Machine loomed over Herald's Pulsar forbiddingly. When Herald finally beheld the full stature of the macabre complex the rest of his world seemed to disappear. The monstrous structure seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Herald stared in awe at the Machine for several seconds. It was the type of awe that people show when they witness a horrible murder, or when someone plummets to their death from a high rooftop. Those precious seconds were wasted. Snapping himself out of his almost trace-like state, Herald remembered why he had come this close to the Machine. To investigate the fighters it was creating. He didn't have to wait long, fighters were popping out every second in an almost continuous stream. Herald watched in amazement as all of the fighters drifted away from the Machine, all of them passive. How many of the fighters already in the battle were like this already? He asked himself. He thought about contacting the "Odysseus," his mother ship, and reporting his findings. But he quickly rejected that idea, he would need more proof than his word to convince them. He began to make theories while looking for proof of his claims. Maybe the Machine is running out of resources and that's causing the fighters to become defective. Herald rejected that idea as soon as he remembered that this Machine would more than likely have fusion plants as its energy source, and devices that produced metal. Maybe something happened to the main computer inside that thing. No, that couldn't be it either he told himself. Because nothing hit the Machine hard enough to inflict that much damage, and the main computer was probably deep within the Machine itself. Continuing his search for some sort of proof to show that there was something wrong with the Machine, while dog fighting the active core fighters, and while trying to think of a theory that would explain and lay proof to his claim.  
  
7  
  
Emily had not moved from her seat at the kitchen table. Her cup of coffee was empty and the contents had begun to dry at the bottom, but she still held it in her hands as if the porcelain mug could grant her absolution. Her gaze fixed on the light switch across the room, she thought she saw its shadow twitch. She broke from her daze and looked around. At first she thought an external source had caused the shadowy anomaly. But when her quick search had failed to locate anything that could change the objects umbra. She became disconcerted. Then as if on cue, all of the shadows in the room shifted. Startled, Emily tried to stand, but could not. Then the shadows darkened. Emily tried to call out to Paul, but her voice caught in her throat. The only sound she produced was the wheezing from the air escaping her mouth, hardly loud enough to carry two feet, let alone all the way into the living room where Paul sat. An ominous sensation of impending danger surged through her. It was like the icy touch of death pumping through her veins. She shivered though the air was warm. Her fingers felt numb with the sudden unset of the frigged waves flowing from within. Something was coming. She could feel it. It was like shards of frozen glass racking across her skin.  
  
The excruciatingly long wait for the quantum laser to cool down enough to fire again was unbearable. Time seemed to slow down, every second ticked by reluctantly, dragging unwanted anticipation across Captain Richards' wary mind. The way time drags by when people desperately desire it to speed by, and the manner in which it blows by when it's wished that it proceed slower. Sitting in his Captain's chair, Richards sweating nervously as the brutal seconds as they drifted by. His eyes fixed on the gauge that displayed the core temperature of the quantum laser located on the bank of computers attached to the ceiling of the bridge. That bank of computers was more to display the hundreds of functions that were occurring throughout the ship.  
  
Tension had gripped Richards by the neck and injected its poison. He could feel his fingers dig into the steel of the armrests on his chair. Without even looking at them, Richards knew his knuckles were pure white. His eyes were probably open wide and riddled with red veins. No, not probably, he knew. When at last he saw the screen flash ready, his brain almost blew apart in his skull. The agonizingly long thirty-second wait was over. With a shrill, almost raspy voice, he shouted at the top of lungs, "FIRE!" When he blurted that single, over-exaggerated word he flung his body forward, showering the grated floor in front of him with a flurry of sweat. The quantum laser fired at the second cruiser. Just like the first cruiser that fell victim to the quantum laser it exploded violently, sending a shockwave ripping through the battlefield. Two cruisers down, three to go. Why hadn't the Machine produced any more cruisers? The incessant punishment that had pounded the "Victory" felt like it was beginning to die down, but when Richards looked at the radar and saw that the number of contacts had risen to over five hundred he knew that couldn't be possible. He was just getting used to the constant vibrating of the ship from the laser and missile impacts. However, when he looked at the hull integrity readout, the amount of damage the ship was receiving had dropped off. That wasn't possible, if anything, that rate should have risen. It wasn't making any sense to Richards. "Sir," Morris said, "We're receiving a communication from one of the fighters." "Is it one of ours?" Richards asked, meaning if the ship belonged to his Enterprise or another. "It's from the 'Odysseus.' The pilot sounds like he's on drugs or something." "Put it on audio, Morris." Richards commanded. "Sir." The speakers around the bridge popped and sizzled with static as the pilot's voice came across, though it was still discernable. "Someone, for the love of God, answer me!" Speaking to the pilot, Richards tried to discover why the pilot had gone onto an emergency frequency. "This is the 'Victory,' state your name." "Oh, thank God. Someone answered me. Herald Rager." The disturbance was beginning to decrease as Morris tinkered with the controls on his computer. "Why are you on the emergency frequency? You better have one good reason." Richards warned. "The fighters the Machine is making are faulty."  
  
Watching the screen real out endless lyrics to songs, most of which Max had never heard of, he received a call on his mobile phone. "Hello." He said quickly as he activated the reception on the device. "Max, Morris." The man on the other line identified himself as one of Max's agents. "I've learned something that you may want to know." Max knew that Morris was on the "Victory" which was currently in the heat of a battle with one of the Machine's. The spaceship was probably over three hundred light years away, but they talked back and forth like they were sitting next to each other. This was made possible by a special device and frequency that was used to carry the message in. The device and frequency worked together to harness unstable gravity waves that were emitted by planets, stars, and other celestial bodies to literally propel the messages through space faster than the speed of light. The resultant was a method of interplanetary communications without the long waits. Before, it would take as many years in time as the two points in which the communication was separated by in light years. Max's current conversation with Morris would have been impossible to undertake because it would take over six hundred years for each person to say hello. "What is it?" "There's a problem with the Machines." "What kind of problem?" "After a certain amount of time it just starts to produce defective units. We don't know why, but we think it has something to do with the coolant system." "This is disturbing. If we can't fix that error with them, we may never be able to overthrow the government." This had thrown a wrench into his plan to become dictator. His mood grew dark nearly the same instant he heard the bad news. "There is some good news." "Well let's hear it." Max wanted to hear anything that may shine some light to brighten his souring mood. "The Machine we are at now is only producing faulty units. They don't attack. The units just fly around in circles." "Get to the point." "If we can gain control of the Enterprises, we may be able to keep this Machine for you intact." Possessing a Machine that was, for the moment, passive, would shorten his plan by several months. That is because he would not have to build a Machine, he would only have to rewrite this one's formatting. "Do it. Contact the other agents there and commandeer the Enterprises. I want you to bring that thing in tow to the construction site." "Yes, sir." Morris killed the conversation. He looked at the sphere that contained the child. "Soon, my boy. You're parents are coming, and then you'll be free." He waited anxiously for the arrival of the parents. He was like a little child the night before Christmas. The screen kept rolling away with lyrics. Remember when the days were long, the world beneath the deep blue sky. Didn't have a care in the world. With mommy and daddy standing by. Max didn't know this one either. Why couldn't the kid think of something he knew? Just lay your head back on the ground, let your hair spin all around me. Offer up your best defense, this is the end, this is the end of the innocence. The screen kept rolling.  
  
Laying in the darkness, Chris filled his thoughts with the lyrics of his favorite songs. He had gone through Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here," CCR's "Lodi," and he was playing Don Henley's "The End of the Innocence" right now. All of the songs seemed fitting for his situation, but he wished he could think the lyrics longer. Without the music the songs were only good for ninety seconds at most. Tears began to well in his eyes as he thought through the lyrics of "The End of the Innocence." He hadn't realized it before when he heard this song, but it was the most truthful song that he had heard. It was about how cruel the real world was in comparison to the life of a child, and how everybody dreams of being a child once again. And here Chris was, eight years old and making a connection that most adults had difficulty making, but Chris would rather not have made this connection. It depressed him. Eight years old and he is contemplating life, when he should be frivolously playing the days away in an ignorant bliss. Chris knew that he was changed, forever from this dreadful experience. He knew that once you learn something, you cannot unlearn it. He was terrified of what he had learned. Eight years old and wiser than a man of twenty.  
  
The conversation with Herald had lifted the intense anxiety from Richards' chest. He had forgotten about the quantum laser, the cruisers, and the battle hammering the "Victory" on all sides. There was hope. Only some of those fighters out there were attacking. That was why the ship felt like it was vibrating less than it was, not because he was becoming accustomed to the relentless assault. Hope glowed like the sun rising over the horizon on a dew-covered field. Richards stood, or rather sat, in the warming light of discovery. He remembered a quote that he heard sometime in his childhood, but he could not remember who said it. Nothing is as it seems, yet everything is more than it seems. That quote fit their situation perfectly. "Morris." Richards spoke to the communications officer in a commanding yet peaceful tone. "Yes, sir?" His voice was wavering. He seemed detached. "Open me a link to all of our fighters." Richards wanted to speak to the entire armada of Pulsars. Hitting multiple buttons and throwing a few switches, Morris executed the proper sequences to grant the Captain his wish. "Done." "This is Captain Richards of the 'Victory.' We have made a discovery that is crucial to our defeating the Machine. We have discovered that the Machine we are assailing has been producing fighters of a faulty nature. Thus, only a percentage of them are attacking us. The defective fighters are totally passive. I order you to only attack the aggressive fighters; if it doesn't shoot at you, don't attack it, you will only be wasting your time. And time is not something we are in great supply of." Richards cut off the communication from his chair.  
  
The Pulsars ceased their firing so they could listen to Richards give his statement. Following his orders all of the pilots sought out the aggressive Core fighters and began to systematically destroy them. The tides of the battle changed so suddenly the Core fighters seemed to become frightened. Though that would be impossible because they are incapable of feeling. They are merely robots and are not really people anymore. Though their programming was based on actual brains of people that had existed several thousand years ago they were not considered living even by the most liberal of thinkers, because their souls, the very essence of existence, had left this plane for another. This justified their destruction to every single person that had raised a weapon against this faceless foe. The active Core fighters were found and destroyed mercilessly, mainly because mercy could only be showed to conscious beings, and these 'things' were far from being conscious. Explosions still clouded every corner of the battlefield, but their inflection had altered from one of ominous obliteration to a feeling of righteousness. For several minutes the Core fighters fought in vain only to be destroyed in a multitude of detonating missiles and flashes of intense laser fire. All that remained now was the passive fighters that buzzed around aimlessly, harmless to the gargantuan Enterprise frigates. They were like pesky gnats, causing no damage at all to the massive vessels, just floating around, an annoyance. The anti-fighter cannons and Pulsars made quick and easy work of the bothersome defects. More brilliant explosions flashed across the emptiness of space. Soon all of the existing Core fighters were destroyed and the "Victory" was blasting the new fighters as they exited the hanger. Now all that remain to destroy was the Machine itself. The Enterprises began to move into position so they could destroy the Machine more efficiently. They would be perched around the Machine on all sides to give the greatest amount of fire coverage. It would take several long minutes for all of the Enterprises to align in their firing position.  
  
Morris had contacted all of the agents on the other Enterprises to coordinate their undermanned mutiny. Their plan was to take complete control over the bridge of every Enterprise. The bridge was the location for the control of the quantum laser, and by taking control of the bridge they would stop the destruction of the Machine so they could follow through with Max's plan. They would wait for the Enterprises to reach their respective destinations before they would launch their scheme. It would probably only take twenty seconds to completely take over every bridge of every Enterprise, because Max had agents on the bridges of every Enterprise. All of the agents were armed with a miniature fully automatic laser pistol, very similar to the Earth's Uzi. Their plan was to kill the Captain and flush every other person on the bridge out into the hallway and trap them there between the blast doors. Once the agents were alone on the respective bridges, they would lock the door leading onto the bridge and commandeer the giant ships to use as they wished. A simple plan could not fail, and their plan was as simple a plan as plans could become.  
  
Emily tried to rid herself of the ominous feeling that she felt when the shadows around her grew darker, but she could not. She was sure something was coming to get them, but she was afraid that Gary would not believe her and thusly would not help them get their son back. She kept telling herself that that thought was only the worry of a mother that wanted her son back more than anything. Gary would help them no matter what, but Emily still couldn't risk him thinking she was crazy. So she kept her feelings inside, bottled up. Paul walked into the kitchen to fetch himself a cup of coffee. Emily must have had a distressed appearance because as soon as he looked upon her he said, "What's wrong?" He sounded concerned. "Nothing." She lied. She hated it when she lied, but she couldn't risk Gary overhearing her. That was a stupid thought. Gary wouldn't, or shouldn't, care what she felt. Emily sat with her head hung a little low to hide her revealing eyes from Paul and with her hands in her lap so he would not see them shaking. Paul moved closer, sat in the vacant chair diagonally to Emily's left. He touched Emily's arm gently, yet reassuringly. In a soft, caring tone he said, "Please don't hide from me Emily." Emily remembered that on their wedding night they promised not to hide anything from each other. That promise had kept them from repressing their emotions until they exploded. She knew that he would press until she would tell him what was troubling her, so she saved him the effort and opened up right then. "I think we're in danger." "What do you mean 'in danger'?" Paul said inquisitively with a touch of worry in his words. "I don't know what it is, but I think something out there is coming after us. Right now I mean." Emily confessed in a monotonic voice. "It's just worry." Paul said trying to soothe her, but not sounding sure of his excuse himself. "No. It's not worry. If we don't get out of here, and I mean now whatever is coming after us is going to stop us even before we can save Chris." Emily's voice started out strong and full of adamancy, but at the end, when she thought about not being able to save Chris, her voice cracked and wavered with the unset of tears. She repressed those tears with a little effort. "Ok, we'll get out of here." When Paul saw Emily get near the brink of crying he knew she was entirely convinced that something was coming to get them. He knew she could "see" brief clips of the future or "feel" things that have not happened yet so he was positive that what she said was genuine. He stood and hustled into the living room and announced that they had to get out of here. "What do you mean, we have to get out of here?!" Gary said in almost a defiant tone. Turning to face Gary, Paul loomed over the meeker man. "Don't argue with me. We're leaving." He turned away and gathered what few items they could use. Emily was relieved that Paul had not told Gary why they were leaving. Maybe subconsciously they could tell what one another are thinking. Paul grabbed the laser pistol and rifle and ushered Helen out to the hover car. Emily stood. She was hampered by the soreness in her leg, which was the sole reason that they were going to retrieve Chris tomorrow and not today. Gary looked confused and intimidated. He followed Paul out the door. Their haste to leave the cabin seemed unnecessary but Paul did not want to take any chances, because Emily's foresights were not always impeccable with their timing. Limping noticeably, Emily favored her right leg. When she at last arrived at the hover car, the rear passenger door was open for her. She climbed, quickly, into the vehicle and slammed the door. Paul shifted into reverse, slammed the accelerator and whipped the car around one hundred eighty degrees. Shifting the car back into drive, he pressed the accelerator to the floor. The only wound that signified that the engine was being pushed hard was a faint whine emitting from the bottom of the vehicle. There was no squeal of tires on pavement, since there was no pavement and more importantly, the hover car had no wheels. The car flew up the gravel road and headed towards the main highway. There they would have to find another haven for the night.  
  
Would you know my name, if I saw you in Heaven? Would it be the same, if I saw you in Heaven? Staring at the computer screen Max had another daydream of being in complete control. This time he had a position that he could not discern from the vague details of the brief reverie. Walking down the street, wearing garments that he could not describe, he strode with the confidence of a king. As he passed the people toiling with their daily chores they all stopped what they were doing, knelt and bowed their heads in obedience. The ones that did not demonstrate their loyalty, either because they did not care or because they did not see him, were immediately beheaded. No blood flowed from the exposed arteries or veins from either dismembered part. Then he saw the parents of the boy. They were standing in front of him, with fear engraved into their faces deeper than Max had ever seen before. The father reached behind his back. Max was wrenched from his pleasant dream before he could see the finale, which left him as angry as a hornet. The shrill resonance of his mobile phone ringing had snapped him from his daze. He answered the phone just to silence the annoying ring that was sending piercing vibrations up his spine. "Hello." He said in an agitated tone of voice. "We have a problem. The parents are on the move." "What?!" "We are tracking them with the satellite and we are currently preparing the strike team for whatever they may need to capture them." "Good." Max said and shut the communication off right there. Then he proceeded to turn off the ringer on his mobile phone so he could daydream with being disturbed. 'Cause I know, there'll be even more tears in heaven.  
  
The Enterprises slowly positioning themselves around the Machine reminded Richards of proud hunters examining their helpless prey before moving in for the kill. He had a premonition of impeding danger but he repressed it. He did not believe in any of that foresight garbage, it was only his nerves giving him trouble. But Morris was acting a little edgy. No, it is all in your head. He told himself. He had to be levelheaded to run this ship properly, besides he could not make unjust accusations based on a gut feeling. He checked the radar to try and gauge how much longer till the ships were in position, two minutes he guessed. That meant this Machine would be dead in no more than three. Relief began to saturate into his blood. It was warm and soothing, like a hot bath after a long, strenuous day of hard labor. Morris stood. Why was he standing? He probably had to go piss or shit. No, something was wrong. This time the feeling just wasn't in him, it hung in the air like moisture after a summer rain. Richards could not draw breath. No matter how hard his lungs pulled, no life-giving oxygen would rush inside. Then he realized that his mouth was clamped shut so tightly that his jaw muscles began to ache. Morris whipped around. He had a gun! Richards tried to hit the button to call for security, but Morris opened fire and four shots caught him in his abdomen. Pain flared from his chest like a napalm-fueled flame. Two of the shots tore through his intestines and what remained of them fell out into his lap. The other two shots struck him in the middle of his chest. Crimson blood gushed from his wounds rapidly; an artery had been hit. Richards couldn't hear anything around him, people seemed to be shouting in terror, but no sounds came from their gaping mandibles. Richards could feel a blackness pulling at him, he did not want to fall into it but his strength failed him and he plummeted into the pit, a white light shone at the bottom. He swore he could hear someone with an angelic voice telling him to go into the light. Like I have much of a choice. Richards thought to himself. The light swallowed him.  
  
After flushing the last of the crewmembers off the bridge and into the hallway he sealing the door shut. Morris threw the weapon to the floor and checked the Captains' pulse. Holding the mans' cold wrist, he knew the man was dead even without taking his pulse. There was enough blood around Richards limp body to ascertain that he had not had an instantaneous death. His lifeless eyes gazed out into the world with a look of agony permanently engraved into them. Then he walked to the bank of computers located in the middle of the room. He made a link to his communications computer and several others from here so he could run the entire bridge on this bank of computers.  
  
Orville stood from his weapons control computer and reached inside his uniform for the weapon that he was given. From behind him Captain Dumas shouted, "Mr. Orville! Get back to your post!" Orville never liked Dumas. He tore the gun from his shirt, spun around and fired a spray of shots towards the detestable captain. Several shots missed but two made contact, one with his arm and the other tore into Dumas' face and exiting the back of his head. Dumas was killed as soon as that bolt of energy splattered his brains all over the wall behind him. There wasn't much blood but Orville grew sick to his stomach. As he commanded that everybody leave the bridge, he tried not to look at the faceless corpse that was once his captain. As he escorted the frightened crew into the hallway, he tried not to pass to close to the dead man, because he was afraid that he would magically come back to life and kill him. Childish fear, but this was the first time Orville ever killed another human being. He followed the orders that Morris had given him and patched every computer in the bridge into the main computer in the center so he could control the entire ship from there.  
  
Morris stood and awaited confirmation of the other mutinies. He didn't have to wait long, they poured in one after another. Every Enterprise was now in their control. Max would soon be the undisputed ruler of the old Arm Galactic Empire and they were going along for the ride. Now the problem was getting the Machine to its destination. The tractor beams were too weak and the tow cables were not tested at the speeds they would be stressed against to get the gargantuan cargo to the site on time. This would be the most difficult undertaking during their operation. Morris could not understand why he wanted them to tow the Machine to the build site. He was expecting him to order them to go inside the Machine and hack into the computer for the information they desired. But towing the whole thing, Morris couldn't understand.  
  
8  
  
The reentry had gone perfectly, and they were right in position to ambush the hover car as it passed by them on the highway. The interception point was a mile away. The path they would have to follow was directly through dense forest. If Louis had the direction finder equipment he could easily sabotage the mission by simply going the wrong way. Walking over fallen trees and through prickly bushes, the strike team drew closer to their destination. For Louis every step he took was a step closer to damnation. Every step he took without discovering a way to sabotage this mission his heart grew heavier. All four members of the strike team were wearing full body armor to protect themselves against the weapons their "enemy" had, but you could only see a slight bulge in their camouflaged clothing. They each had a fully automatic weapon that was powerful enough to blow holes through buildings and a smaller laser pistol with a laser sighting and loaded with armor piercing rounds. However, the weapon that would cripple the vehicle with was a low-yield rocket launcher. The original plan was for them to use that to destroy their means of escape and then crash the cabin. Now all that was changed since their orders were changed from search and destroy to capture and was further complicated by their untimely departure of their quarry from the cabin. Now they would utilize the rocket launcher to knock the life out of the hover car. Once the vehicle was neutralized, they would quickly surround the car and bring the parents in for questioning, or whatever reason they were needed for, and to kill anybody else in the vehicle. For several minutes they walked through the endless array of trees and other planet life. Then Louis saw the highway. Hell was only a hundred yards away.  
  
Paul frantically pushed the hover to its limits. Whipping it like a plush toy around blind curves with reckless abandon. The needle on the speedometer was topping out. Paul had put the top up so air resistance would be minimized, but the top was rattling against the where it made contact with the windshield, from the air biting into the frame of the car and attempting to force it slower. He responded by pressing the accelerator to the floor. The car shot forward. He needed to put as much distance between them and the cabin as possible as fast as possible. Even though Emily's foresight had bad timing and the danger had already passed, Paul didn't want to take any chances.  
  
Crouching in the bushes off the broad side of a turn in the highway, Louis and the rest of his team were waiting for their objective to hurtle towards them. The resolution Louis sought for remained as elusive as ever. He had to think fast, the car would be appearing around the bend any second now. "Target incoming." Elise announced solemnly, but only Louis caught that solemnity, the two other people there heard boredom. Emotional tones in the voice can be as relative as an object's apparent size. Meaning, you can take a penny place it next to a grain of sand and the penny would appear immense in comparison, but take that same penny and put it in your hand, it looks much smaller than it did than when it was beside the grain of sand. However, emotional tones have much more complexity in their true meanings than the size of the penny. It was too late for Louis to think of a plan, he would now have to improvise. Walsh, one of the other members of the team, waited for his opportunity to fire the rocket and cripple the oncoming car.  
  
Emily felt an ice pick run right through her chest. The coldness seeped through her body more frantically than she ever felt henceforth. Almost reflexively, she shouted, "STOP!" She was almost convinced that her voice would come out shaky as if she had spent hours in a snow bank clad in nothing more than jeans and a t-shirt, but it was as strong as it ever was.  
  
Paul immediately slammed the brakes and the hover car came to an abrupt halt. Emily didn't have to say why she commanded that Paul stop because he saw the smoke trail of a rocket as it hurled towards them. Trying not to panic, he shifted into reverse and slammed his foot on the accelerator, but he was not fast enough, the rocket slammed into the hood of the hover car. Throwing his hands defensively in front of his face, knowing too well that placing that little amount of protection in front of his face would be useless. If the rocket's explosion didn't kill them, the shrapnel from the engine would shred them to pieces. Paul couldn't believe that it would end like this. Everything was happening is slow motion. Helen screamed from the backseat. Emily stared with widening eyes as the rocket struck the hood of the hover car. The vehicle was thrown forward sharply. Paul felt his harness pull tightly across his chest. The car struck the ground with the whine of tortured metal abrading against pavement and more metal. Paul opened his eyes. He was alive! No pain flared from any part of his body except for where his harness had gripped him. Looking quickly around the car he saw that everyone was okay for the most part. Relief rushed through him. But then he came to realize that whoever fired that rocket would not leave them for dead, they would make sure they had perished. They had to get out of the car, and fast. "Get out of the car!" Paul shouted. Nobody needed to be told again. They tore their seatbelts off then threw the doors open. The step out of the vehicle was short because it was no longer floating. Stepping out in a mid-run Emily heard weapon fire and she immediately fell to the ground. Paul and the others did the same, but they were on the opposing side of the car. Instead of running behind the car where Paul would be, she scrambled for the brush on the roadside. Metal shrieked as energy bolts smashed in to them. Helen, Gary and Paul lay flat on the pavement, making as small as a target of themselves as they could. Their assailant's weapons must have been powerful, because the shots punched through the hover car with ease. They were stuck in a raging river without a paddle, or a boat.  
  
From her foliage crowded hiding spot, Emily could see nothing of the hover car, Paul, or anybody else. She felt alone where she was, though she was probably safer where she was than behind the downed car. Here, she could play a game of hide and seek with their enemy, but where Paul was, the only thing they could do was fire back with what weapons they had. The latter didn't seem any more alluring than the former, since they would be outgunned. Despite all the noisy gunfire, Emily could still hear Helen screaming. It was like a knife thrusting into her heart. Emily wanted to soothe her daughter, but she couldn't get near her. Emily just laid in the dirt and endured the emotional torture.  
  
Paul had led Helen and Gary to the rear of the vehicle. He wanted to get the guns out of the trunk so he could defend their position. He had to wait for them to reload, or a break in the shooting to risk opening the hatch else he take an energy bolt through the abdomen.  
  
Walsh and Harvey were the only two firing their weapons. They were only supposed to pin them down while Elise and Louis crept around behind them and capture them. This was the opportunity Louis was waiting for. He wasn't sure how he could exploit it, but he would think of something.  
  
"How much longer do ya think it will take them to go 'round?" Walsh asked in between bursts of his machine gun. "Probably a minute or two." Harvey replied between his own bursts. "Need to reload!" Walsh shouted as he rolled over on his back and plucked an empty clip from his pocket. Harvey was foolishly distracted by Walsh's unnecessary comment.  
  
Paul seemed to be waiting for an eternity for the firing to pause. When the pangs and whines stopped he shot into a sitting position, tore open the hatch which he had opened while laying on his back to save time, risking a shot to the arm. He reached in and extracted the shotgun and pistol. Then he fell back to the pavement just as the firing recommenced. He handed the pistol to Gary, because he could not operate both weapons simultaneously, and he didn't trust Gary's marksmanship. At first Gary refused the weapon, but Paul threw it at him as if to say, shoot you coward. Peering around the side of the vehicle Paul could not see the shooters, but he could see their weapon's barrels light a fluorescent-like red when they fired. Taking a laying shooter's stance, Paul aimed for one of the flashing targets. He was an exceptional shot, but he had never been tested in an actual situation before. The rifle was almost a cannon, if the shot hit any part of their bodies, it would literally be torn off.  
  
Keeping low Walsh gave Harvey cover fire while he was reloading, which Harvey should have gave him instead of looking at him. That was a stupid rookie mistake. Walsh fired high over where he expected the target to be. He was unprepared for the deafening boom that resonated off the nearby hills. At first he thought he particle accelerator had exploded, but there was no shockwave that succeeded the bang. Then he realized that their quarry must have pulled a high-powered weapon from the trunk while their pinning gunfire paused. The first shot hit nothing but bush, but it was close, only inches away from Harvey's head. The helmets they had on could protect against a handgun, but not against that cannon. However, their body armor would be sufficient to stop the bolt, but not without inflicting a serious hurting and probably leave one hell of a bruise.  
  
Paul waited for the gun to recharge before he shot again. He wondered if he hit anybody. Both of the stroboscopic orange globes from their weapons were still present; he didn't hit anybody. "Hurry up." He muttered under his breath at the rifle in his hands. Done. Paul immediately started to line up his next shot. It was difficult to concentrate with Helen screaming behind him, but now her screaming had subsided to sobbing.  
  
Emily was relieved when Helen stopped crying, but when she thought of a reason for why she stopped, her heart skyrocketed into her throat. Helen may be dead or dying and there was nothing Emily could do or she would be cut down and be of no help to anybody. Stay put. She kept telling herself, but it was becoming more difficult with each passing moment. Her maternal instincts were going crazy. She wanted to run to Helen and hold her, but running across the road right now would be as stupid as suicide. She reluctantly waited. She tried to quell her hammering heart but it was all in vain. She wanted to know if her little girl was all right and it was eating her alive that she couldn't do anything at the moment.  
  
Walsh heard the rifle fire again. The subsequent boom seemed louder than the first and the echoing repercussions seemed to go on longer than before. Immediately after the booming gunshot, Walsh heard a noise that reminded him of a melon being dropped on solid ground. Looking over at Harvey, Walsh nearly threw up. The shot he heard had struck Harvey right in the face. Though his helmet had kept his head from exploding as it would without one, Walsh could see a giant puddle of blood around him and a gaping hole in the back of his head exposing the gray matter inside. Crimson stains sprayed along Harvey's back and onto his pants. Walsh looked down and saw that he had blood all over his left side from the ribs down. Pieces of bloodied brain tissue had splattered against the bush behind Harvey. This was the first time in his forty-eight years of existence that he had seen someone die before his eyes. Walsh was beginning to become light- headed. Turning his head to the side he vomited what little content he had in his stomach. If he had known this man before today he probably would have been enraged at the loss. Since he didn't know him that well, Walsh only felt a deep sadness in his heart. He always thought it was a waste when people were killed young, but he made an exception for criminals. Like the people he was shooting at. He wouldn't hesitate a fraction of a second if he had the chance to kill one of them, but his orders were specific. They were to capture the parents and kill anybody else, but he might make a slip.  
  
Louis stood twenty yards behind the downed hover car hidden by the bushes on the shoulder of the road. Elise was crouching beside him with a solemn expression on her face. "I can't do this Louis. I can't bring myself to do anything to those innocent people." Elise confessed while looking away from Louis. "We don't have to. I think I know a way to get them out of this and make it look like an accident." "Really!" Elise's head spun towards Louis and her eyes seemed to glow. " I think if we can sneak up behind them, make it look like we're stalking them to Walsh and Harvey, we can talk to the parents without our 'friends' hearing us. We can tell them to run, or something." "What if they shoot us?" Elise said realizing the coherent danger in his plan. "We'll have to take that chance." Louis said bluntly. "Let's go." They started to climb out of the concealing bush. "Elise." Louis said. "Yes." Elise turned around to face him. "I love you." He wanted to say his goodbyes in case the worst happened. Silently, they both climbed onto the road and covered the distance between them and the parents quickly.  
  
Waiting for the rifle to charge again, Paul heard Helen let loose a shrill cry of terror like someone was stabbing her to death. Then he knew that they had been surrounded. Their situation went from bad to hopeless. Paul rolled over and saw two crouched people about ten feet away. He whipped the rifle at the smaller one and pulled the trigger. The shot must have been charged, because the weapon kicked back into his shoulder hard. Just before he pulled the gun he thought he heard one of them shout, "Don't shoot!" But it was too late, the energy bolt struck one of them in the chest and flung the person ten feet backwards. One down, one to go.  
  
Louis shouted, "Don't shoot!" In a vain attempt to stop the man from pulling the trigger. He watched in terror as Elise took the rifle shot directly in the chest, thank God for the body armor, and fly backwards two of her body lengths. He acted quickly. He kicked the weapon out of the man's grasp and took him by the shirt. There was another man with a small handgun, but he was too terrified to even speak, let alone pull the trigger on the weapon. He cowered in the fetal position against the downed hover car. "I'm not going to hurt you, you understand. I want you to run when I let you go. Don't ask any questions. Just run. Do you hear me? Run, dammit!" The man seemed confused, a perplexed look fell on his face. "My wife," He said pointing to the bushes. "Ran." "Call her over here." Behind them Elise was making agonized coughing sounds as she gradually recovered from the shot to her chest that was luckily halted by the body armor. "EMILY! Get over here! It's okay! Come over here!" The man shouted towards the side of the road, never taking his eyes off of Louis. A woman peered from the foliage on the shoulder. Hesitantly, she rose to her feet, looked towards the direction the machinegun fire had originated but now was silenced. She bolted across the road and straight for her daughter. She hugged her fiercely and began to say, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Over and over to the distressed child. "Now go. Run. Fast. Hurry." Louis said with such urgency that he didn't even create full sentences. Still regarding Louis with suspicion, the man slowly shuffled towards his wife always keeping an eye on Louis. To his wife he said, "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yes." She responded. She had a soothingly sweet voice. "RUN!" Louis shouted in exigency. Walsh was walking towards them. They needed to get away before he could see them. The family and the other man began to run away as fast as their legs could carry them. "Hey! Go get them!" Walsh shouted. Too late. Seeing no other contingency he could take, Louis spun and fired his weapon at Walsh. Several shots tore through his chest. Crimson fluid spurted from his back as each shot ripped through his armor and flesh. He was dead before he hit the ground. Louis felt filthy about killing Walsh but he could see no other way around it. It was inevitable. Walsh would have done the same to him once he realized that they were not following orders. Kill or be killed the choice was difficult but simple. Elise looked thunderstruck almost too terrified to move. This was the first time she had seen somebody get shot. To make it worse, Louis pulled the trigger. Seeing the man she loved take another life was almost more than she could bear. Seeing her distress, Louis threw his weapon aside and hugged Elise fiercely. Louis did not know how long they were embraced, it could have been only a minute, but a half-hour could have passed and he would not have known the difference.  
  
9  
  
When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me. Speaking words of wisdom. Let it Be. Max knew this song. It was "Let it Be" by the Beatles. Max did not know what it was about this song but he enjoyed it, though he detested the rest of that British band's music with a passion. The boy was still running lyrics through his thoughts. The boy did not know that all his attempts were in vain. His parents were probably being brought to him right this minute. Max would love to see the parents' reactions when he kills their son. He had decided that he would shoot the boy instead of keeping him for research like the scientists wanted. Max waited patiently for the parents to be escorted through that door. The power.  
  
Chris waited in the perpetual darkness. Something was growing inside him. He could feel it clawing at his subconscious like a rabid wolf. He could not discern what it was regardless of how deep he looked. Occasionally, he saw a part of whatever "it" was. But it was like he was walking through a pitch black tunnel, and the only glimpses Chris caught of whatever "it" was, was when the electricity surged and lit the tunnel with a quick flash of light. However, he did not know when these surges came or know where to look to find "it," but most of the time, it found him. Chris did not like the glimpses he saw. All that Chris knew was that whatever was germinating inside him was that he could not forget it, and that it was dangerous. Dangerous like a man with a split personality armed with thousands of nuclear weapons and fueled by an unequaled animosity towards mankind. Chris was becoming scared of himself more than he was afraid of the blackness that encompassed him.  
  
Paul did not know why that man had let them go back there. He could not find a logical explanation for it with the exception of that that man had a heart. Since the nearest city was five or six miles away, Paul had plenty of time to contemplate. They walked along the side of the highway like they were marching to their deaths. A somber air hung around them that grew with every passing moment like they were magnets for the negative feelings drifting around. He wanted to find out what else Gary knew, but for some reason he did not want Helen to know exactly what happened to her brother. He would wait. Though Emily was greatly relieved that nobody was hurt, she was falling through a downward spiral towards hopelessness. She tried to fill her mind with positive thoughts but she could not resist the gravity pull of the downward spiral. The blazing sun hung at high noon, glaring sunshine claimed every crevice that darkness could be evicted. The sun beat down on the macadam highway, heating its tarry surface. The heated highway radiated heat adding to the already warm day. The several mile-walk would be tiresome in the least. Already favoring her deficient leg, Emily limped noticeably. After a mile or so, she would be almost dragging her leg behind her. After two miles, she would be forced to crawl because the pain would be intolerable. To avoid those inevitable happenings, they had to rest every few minutes, before Emily's leg hindered their progress to too great an extent. The first leg of their journey passed by uneventfully and silently. Not a word was spoken between them. Sitting in the grass off the side of the highway, Paul had surrendered to ignorance, as he could not logically think of a reason for that man to release them. Now, he had no thoughts to cloud his mind from the incessant tapping of their feet as they struck the highway, or from the darkness that is morbid curiosity. Instead of thinking in logical patterns, his thoughts drifted along a knife's edge between the rational and irrational. On one side, he had the life of his past, a simple existence with a loving wife and two children. On the other side, he had his life now. Hit men coming after them at every corner, agencies kidnapping little children and killing innocent civilians. On one side, simplicity. On the other, paranoia. With the sun to their backs, they trudged on.  
  
Discussing the possible avenues they could use to move the Machine, Morris felt a headache begin to flare behind his eyes. He was doing too much thinking. The other agents he was talking to were idiots. The most intelligent suggestion they offered was removing one of the Enterprises engines and attaching it to the Machine. Which was impossible. First of all, it would take too long and they did not have the manpower to perform such a task. Secondly, the engine would only be able to go forward without the directional thrusters. Lying back in his seat, Morris closed his eyes and massaged his temples, trying to soothe his germinating headache. He had an inspiration. Instead of removing the engine to one of the Enterprises, they could position the Enterprises around the Machine and force it to move with them. Since the Machine was in space, its relative weight was zero. The problem was that all of the Enterprises would have to move synchronously. Then he remembered, he could tie all of the nav computers into a single nav system. They had a plan. He pushed the communication button and said, "Shut up everybody, here's what we're doing." He explained the details to the other agents.  
  
Hey you! Out there in the cold getting lonely, getting old, can you feel me? Hey you! Standing in the aisles with itchy feet and fading smiles, can you feel me? Another song that Max did not know, but these lyrics were compelling. He wondered if he should tell the boy that his parents have been arrested and were being transported here at this minute. Max answered himself, no. He wanted to see the boys face when he realized that all of his attempts to block out his mind were in vain. Max drifted away in his state of power-induced euphoria. He almost didn't hear his mobile phone ring. Opening the face of the mechanism, he spoke into the microphone. "Yes?" He spoke rapidly. "The strike team has not reported back to us yet." The man on the other end said. "What does that mean?" "It either means they are experiencing difficulty with their communications equipment, or they have failed." Max remained silent, he was too angry to speak. "I have to guess that they failed because they're ship was in perfect running order on the last report." The man's voice was wavering. "Who in God's name are these people?!" Max said at last. "How could they have killed ten of our men?! This is God damned unbelievable! Un-fucking- believable!" He normally didn't swear, but his well-laid plan was ruined. By the time they could get another strike team assembled, the parents could be on another planet. Therefore, mobilizing another strike team would be a waste of time and precious manpower. He would not send any more men out and cut down on security. He had to go on the defensive and wait for the parents to come to him. They would come; eventually they would come. It was only a matter of time. Hey you! Out there beyond the wall, breaking bottles in the hall, can you help me? Hey you! Don't tell me there's no hope at all. Together we stand, divided we fall.  
  
Maneuvering the Enterprises around the Machine was harder than Morris thought it would be. To remove the threat of the Machine rattling against the Enterprises and inflicting hull damage during transportation, the Enterprises were forced to slide as flush with the sides of the Machine as possible. This was a difficult feat to perform. While an Enterprise was moving into position, its only pilot had to gauge the ships speed and fire the proper thrusters to slow the vessel down just as it slid along side the Machine. If it was moving too fast, it would rebound off the much larger Machine and thusly would have to make another pass. The Enterprises were positioned around the Machine in this manner; one on each of its two smaller sides, two on the top and bottom, three in back for thrust, three in front for breaking. Since the Enterprise's breaking thrusters were weaker than the propulsion thrusters they could only use sixty percent of the propulsion thruster's maximum output. Even so, it would take the twelve Enterprises ten minutes to completely slow the Machine down. Once they were in position, the hardest part of their plan was over. All that preceded was the linking of all the nav computers into Max's nav computer so he could control all of the Enterprises simultaneously.  
  
10  
  
The six-mile walk took longer than Paul expected. He was expecting to enter the city at about one-thirty, but Emily's leg slowed them down more than what Paul had anticipated and because of it, they arrived thirty-two minutes after Paul's approximated arrival time. The entire voyage came to pass without incident. Which was a relief for Paul. He kept expecting to hear a burst of machine gun fire from behind them, or being clubbed by a man concealed in dense foliage that was to their left-hand side. Paul knew that Helen could not come with Emily, Gary, and him when they went to rescue Chris. Therefore, they would have to leave her in a hotel room with a babysitter or with Ingrid Thurman, a friend of theirs that lived in an apartment on the other side of the city. The choice was obvious, Ingrid. If they rented out a hotel room, it would be recorded in the hotel's computer and that left a traceable mark that ADIT could follow. Anyway, odds were that they did not have enough cash on them to rent a hotel room, let alone pay for a babysitter that would be required for Helen. Standing at a phone booth, but in reality it was only a small box with the phone set inside, Paul reached into his pocket and removed fifty kords, (monetary unit similar to the penny) and shook them nervously in his hand.  
  
Turning to Emily, he asked, "Do you remember Ingrid's number?" Emily thought for a moment, then answered. "Five, three, one, four, eight, one, seven, two." Emily gave out the digits three in a row, then two, then the last three. That sequence took in account the miniscule retention time of Paul's, or anybody's, short-term memory, so he would not forget any of the numbers. Paul placed the receiver to his ear after he finished entering the eight- digit number. Riiiinnnngggg.Riiinnnnggg.Riiinnnnggg. The line rang five times before Ingrid answered. "Hello?" Ingrid's smooth feminine voice came through the receiver into Paul's ear. They knew her from their honeymoon, because she was on summer vacation there and occupied a room down the hall from their suite. Though Ingrid was three years older than Emily, Emily thought Ingrid looked at least a decade younger from the last time they had seen her, three years ago. "Ingrid?" Paul said. "It's Paul." "Paul!" The woman said exuberantly, remembering him immediately. "It's been a long time!" "Yes, it has." Paul said trying to fake being as jubilant as she was. "Is Emily there too?" They did not have much time to waste, but Paul did not have the heart to ask the sweet woman for a favor without doing a little catching-up first. He handed the receiver to Emily, she took it and placed to her ear. "Hello, Ingrid." Emily said as vivaciously as she could, considering what she's gone through over the past few hours. "Emily! How've you been?" "Pretty good. You?" "I'm doin' just fine." "We were in town and were wondering how you've been." "Do you have time to drop by my place so we can catch up?" "Sure. Where do you live?" Ingrid told Emily the address than directions on how to get there after Emily told her where they were. After a few exchanges Emily said goodbye and hung up the phone. She had told Ingrid that they would be there in a few hours after they had run a few errands. They didn't have any errands to do, that was a lie in order to give them the time necessary to walk to her house.  
  
To avoid collisions, the Enterprises moved into position no more than two at a time. The only Enterprise that remained out of position was Morris'. The location for his Enterprise was the left front side. He decided to back into his position, but that would not be easy. Since the main thrusters were far more powerful than the reverse thrusters, he would only have to give the main thrusters a miniscule amount of firing time. Morris switched the "Victory" over to manual control. He was trained in piloting any ship ADIT had to offer, but he took a few moments to recall how to maneuver the giant ship. The "Victory" glided through the emptiness of space. Morris piloted it with painstaking precision. Due to his inexperience, he only dared to move agonizingly slow. After a few long moments, the vessel was aligned for its first attempt. It was positioned about three hundred meters directly ahead of its final destination facing away from the Machine. All that Morris had to do was guide the "Victory" backwards into its predetermined destination.  
  
Morris gently applied the reverse thrusters. At first the ship seemed not to be moving, but the longer Morris kept the reverse thrusters active, the faster the ship traveled. Since in momentum is lost in space, it didn't take long for the "Victory" to be noticeably moving backwards. Using the distance-measuring device on board, used for measuring distances to targets and ships approaching to dock, Morris did not have to continuously look at the aft camera projection screen. He only had to shift his gaze a few inches to his left and he could see a numerical representation of the distance between the "Victory" and the Machine. 141.7 meters. He was moving too fast. He covered half the distance in less than five seconds. Pulling back slightly on the control for the main thrusters the ship slowed significantly. Morris released the control for the reverse thrusters, inertia would carry the "Victory" to the Machine. 102.3 meters. Beads of sweat began to form along Morris' receding hairline though the interior of the bridge was cool. His stomach tied itself in a knot. Trying to keep a clear head, Morris thought about a sunrise over an ocean.  
  
He was becoming nervous from the fact that the Captain had earlier brought the "Victory" into the heart of the battle. The "Victory" had sustained some hull damage, but the engines could not be assessed properly. If the main engines were damaged, and Morris bumped into the Machine in the wrong way, they might crack. When the engines cracked, it caused the matter and antimatter to mix freely instead of in a controlled environment. If that occurred, it would create an explosion large enough to destroy the rear half of the "Victory," and probably cause the main reactor to rupture causing another explosion. This one would destroy the "Victory" completely and the other Enterprise beside it. His hands began to shake subtly. He began to use imagery to calm his jittering nerves. Sunrise over the ocean. Morris calmed himself somewhat.  
  
51.2 meters. Crunch time. Sweat poured from his face. Sunrise over the ocean. His gut clenched tighter around his intestines. 13.4 meters. Morris tapped the main thruster control and closed his eyes, waiting for chance to deal him his fate. The wait for the "Victory" to make impact was so long that Morris almost thought that he had hit the main thrusters too hard and he brought the "Victory" to a dead stop. Then the entire ship shuddered as it struck the Machine. No explosion followed, just a loud clang that reverberated through the ship. Morris opened his eyes and checked the distance. 0.0 meters. He was either flush against the Machine or so close that it was irrelevant. "I'm in position. Everybody prepare to tie your nav computers into mine." Morris said exasperatedly wiping the sweat from his face with his sleeve.  
  
Emily could think of an explanation they could use to explain their appearances to Ingrid. Her clothes were spattered with dirt and grass stains, her hair was in disarray, and though she could not see it, she believed her face was filthy. She could tell Ingrid that their car broke down. But Emily quickly rejected that thought when she remembered how nice Ingrid was. If their car broke down, Ingrid would do everything in her power to get it fixed. Maybe they should have rented a hotel room, it would have been easier. They were running out of time, Ingrid's house was only a few blocks away. Think, Emily, think. She told herself silently. Time ticked away with every step they took.  
  
By the time Herald left the hanger, he knew something was wrong, but he could not put a finger on what it was. It was as elusive as it was mysterious. It was like an unseen smoke hanging in the air, a ghost walking down a hallway, intangible yet sensible. It nagged at Herald's mind incessantly. Thinking it was just his nerves, Herald took a shower, but he felt no different afterwards than before. Sitting on his couch he tried to blank his thoughts, but that feeling of wrongness refused to be silenced. Making excuses for that sensation, he told himself that the assault on the Machine took more out of him than he thought. He knew that was a lie, but he could not find a more logical reason to explain his feeling of wrongness. Maybe sleep would quell this feeling. Herald laid down on the couch, closed his eyes and in a few minutes was asleep.  
  
Once all of the nav systems were tied into Morris' computer, he plotted the course they were to follow and programmed which engines would perform which tasks. This was necessary so that when he accelerated forward, the vessels located on the front side of the Machine would not shoot forward and thusly ruin their attempt at guiding this Machine to its destination. The programming of the systems was easier than Morris had first thought it would be. It only cost Morris six short minutes for him to enter the commands into the ship's nav system and compute their meaning. With all the programming, processing, interpolation, and registering complete, the Machine with the dozen Enterprises guiding it were ready for the journey ahead. Tentatively, Morris pushed forward on the main thruster control and engaged the hyperspace engines. If he had missed a key while he was reprogramming the nav system, or if he had misread one of the symbols in the readout of one of the Enterprises, or if he had made any of a thousand other mistakes, everything he and the other agents had done would have been in vain. The muffled wail of the hyperspace engines echoed through the ship, but seemed to magnify on the bridge. The wail nagged at what conscience Morris had left as if it was a human trying to make him realize his actions were wrong. But Morris ignored this nuisance with ease. The mass of mechanized steel shot forward with a sudden lurch of speed. The coherent gravitational forces that were introduced onto the crew by any known or precipitous accelerations and decelerations were nullified by a device in the artificial gravity system that held all of the passengers still, regardless of what the laws of inertia introduced upon them.  
  
So I held my head up high. Hiding hate that burns inside. Which only fuels their selfish pride. We're all held captive out from the sun, a sun that shines on only some. We the meek are all in one. Max wasn't watching the screen any longer. He had turned his attention to the digital readouts of the boy's life signs. The lines were almost hypnotic in their endless race across the screens. He checked his phone. He was waiting for Morris to report on his mission any time now. Back to the readouts. Brain waves normal, heart rate normal, blood pressure a little high but nothing to warrant concern, breathing rate normal. In this abnormal world these readouts seemed to all that's normal. Rrrrri. Max snatched his phone off the table beside him and cut the emitted sound short. "Hello?" He said quickly. "Max, it's Morris." It sounded like the man had just ran a marathon. "How are you preceding?" "We're on our way to the site with the Machine." Excitement grew in Max's stomach when he heard the news. He was even closer to his dream of possessing the power of a totalitarian dictator. His head tingled with delight. "Very good." He said, trying to retain his child-like glee. "We'll be arriving in four hours and twenty minutes. Sir, what should we do about the final Machine?" "Ignore it." Max ordered. "What if it begins to create units?" Morris was being uncharacteristically curious. "Machines can only make k-bots. Any units that Machine makes will be frozen there, since that planet does not have a Galactic Gate." "Yes sir." Morris spoke in a tone not dissimilar to a child that was just reprimanded. That is very odd for him. Usually he has an unconcerned tone to his voice. This was strange, almost unsettling. Morris cut the transmission. That unsettling feeling began to ferment in Max's stomach, but he knew if he allowed it to continue the result would not be fine wine or strong rum.  
  
He looked at the computer rolling out the contents of the boy's thoughts. The fermentation in his stomach did not abate. I cry out to God, seeking only his decision. Gabriel stands and confirms I've created my own prison.  
  
Emily knocked on the door to Ingrid's house. She had not though of an explanation for their appearance, which made her nervous. Maybe Ingrid wouldn't notice, Emily thought, but she rejected that foolish idea when she saw how disheveled they appeared. Gary decided that it would be better if they went in without him, he would find his own place to stay and they would meet them on the corner of Fifth and Main in the morning. Paul did not like splitting up, but it would be significantly easier if they followed Gary's plan instead. Either plan would present a problem, they chose the simpler problem to handle because over the past few hours, they have had more than their share of dilemmas and were getting tired of them. The door opened. Ingrid stood in the doorway with a look of surprise when she saw her old friends again, but that appearance quickly faded when she saw what condition they were in. It was replaced by a visage of curiosity that screamed out, 'What happened to you?' "Oh, my God! What happened? Are you okay?" Ingrid placed on of her delicate hands over her chest as if she was steadying a rapid heartbeat. This was what Emily was not prepared for and she was at a loss of thought at the moment. She could think of no way to explain this without telling her the truth. Emily thought that an eternity had slipped by since Ingrid spoke. 


	3. Renaissance of Destruction 3

Part 3  
  
Mind or Machine  
  
There's something frightening in the air. And to speak of it, I do not dare. Something from the darkened depths of Hell, something upon which I dare not dwell. -Whispers on the Breeze  
  
The mind is of God's creation. The machine is of perfection. So, I ask, which is mightier? Mind of man or machine of God. -Whispers on the Breeze  
  
What is this life we cling to, where brilliance is told to shoo, and evil kept to ferment? -Whispers on the Breeze  
  
Louis and Elise had two choices to make after the incident on the highway. They could either wait for another crew to retrieve them since the ship that they arrived on would not be able to achieve gravitational escape velocity even if it had a full fuel supply, or they could run away and just disappear. The latter was far more appealing since they could be facing charges of treachery. Once Elise regained the strength to walk, recovering from the rifle shot to her chest took a great deal of her energy, they had retraced their steps back to the craft that they arrived on. There they had told the pilot that the parents had escaped and were heading into the city and that they had to give chase. That meant they had to slip into civilian clothes and take the hoverbikes that were stored on board. Thank God this ship was equipped to handle every contingency that could arise in any situation. It had scuba gear, survival kits, mountain climbing equipment, and several other items. Since the pilots were harmlessly oblivious to the happenings on the road, Louis decided to let them live. Before he and Elise sped off, in a false chase after innocent fugitives that they had no intent of following, Louis told the pilots that the parents had gone east, when they really went west.  
  
On the road, feeling the warm midday air whip around his body, Louis was overcome by a fuzzy feeling. It was not dismaying or imposing. It was the feeling only a free man could feel. It was unadulterated freedom that had planted its seed into Louis' mind and now that he had tasted it, he knew he could not give it up. He looked back at Elise who was following him just off to his left side. Though he could not see her face through the visor on the hoverbike's helmet, he knew she was feeling freedom too. Louis flipped the switch to open the communications link s he could talk to Elise. These hoverbikes had every bell and whistle Louis could imagine. The link opened up with a sharp crackle and a few moments of static. Since the microphone and speaker systems were implanted in the helmets, there was no way that any conversation held across them be not heard. Louis spoke into the microphone positioned an inch in front of his mouth. "How you doing back there?" He was tempted to shout and raise his voice over the sound of the rushing air as they cut through it, but he did not when he remembered that the speakers would emit his voice loud enough to do just that if he spoke normally. "Are you sure ADIT won't be able to find us?" Elise asked worriedly. Louis could not be sure if the worry originated from her inexperience of driving the hoverbike or from the fact that if ADIT caught them now, they would surely be killed. "They will be able to trace us up to the point where we leave this planet." They were going to take the first interplanetary flight off of this rock to Aoru, a small planet on the outskirts of the AGE territory. There, they would purchase false identification and take another interplanetary flight to Earth, outside ADIT's reach. "But once we leave Aoru, under our new names, they will not be able to find us again." "I wish I could be as sure of this as you are." "Don't worry." Louis kept the link open but said nothing more. The macadam roadway sped beneath them as green-leaved trees appeared before him and faded into a blur in his peripheral vision. Everything he saw seemed to be different though he had seen trees before. The trees appeared to have a new attribute to them, something he had never seen until now. If he could take his helmet off and take a breath of the air, it would taste purer than the air after a spring rain. These new sensations were what free men took for granted, but Louis did not because he had spent his entire existence that he could remember under the oppressive control of ADIT. He was merely a servant to them. Freedom poured and twisted around him in the sunlight, the air, the trees, the ground, even the feel of the clothes pressing to his skin. He had never thought that true freedom could feel this exhilarating.  
  
2  
  
The shower Emily took in Ingrid's bathroom felt unbelievable. The water washed away what seemed like literal pounds of dirt from her body. Emily could not believe that Ingrid took the false story Paul had given as true. Paul had told her that they were on a nature walk and lost their way. It was a little shaky, considering that Chris was not with them. However, some quick thinking on the part of Paul removed that hole. He said that Chris was spending the day at a friend's house. Emily redressed and stepped out of the shower, giving Paul his turn to wash away the filth that had gathered on him. She felt guilty about lying to Ingrid then using her shower, but no matter what they had told Ingrid, she would have permitted them in and made them feel at home. Ingrid was more than a good friend, she was a saint. "You hungry?" Ingrid spoke to her from the kitchen. She appeared to be making sandwiches. Sandwiches, Emily's mouth began to water, she hadn't eaten anything since they left the cabin and she was starving. "You're just too nice." Emily said somewhat elated. "Well I expect to be well paid for this." Ingrid said sarcastically with a warm smile on her face. Emily let out a short laugh. "If everybody was like you we wouldn't need any laws." Ingrid could not think of a remark that would defend her modesty, so she returned to making the sandwiches. Helen was sitting on the couch in the far corner of the room. With her hands folded in her lap and her gaze fixed on nothing but space and a blank expression on her face, she seemed distant. This change in personality, she is normally talkative and always moving, worried Emily. So much has happened to them over the past few days. As Emily looked upon her solemn daughter, she was filled with anger. She was determined to make whoever took her son from her pay dearly for what they have done.  
  
Chris was having difficulty concentrating on the lyrics he had running through his mind. His thoughts kept drifting away to his mother. First she was walking along a side of a road. There was a strange man that looked familiar but he could not remember from where. Then again she was sitting in a chair but the strange man was not there, but there was a woman there that also looked familiar. To complicate the matter, the darkness growing inside him was increasing. It was as imposing as it was frightening. It was pressing at the edges of his consciousness, straying his thoughts away. Then for some reason he knew that running lyrics through his head was no longer preventing anything. He ceased the ineffective action immediately. Nearly the same instant he stopped thinking lyrics, his thoughts turned to his mother. A gapping hole opened in his heart wider than the distance that separated him from his mother. He extended his hand above him and grabbed at the air as if he expected his mother's hand to occupy that area. Tears rolled down his face. "Mommy." He cried in a voice racked with desperation and crackling with empty sadness. His hand clenched at air.  
  
3  
  
Max continued his watch on the readout screen as the endless lyrics rolled along. Then Max saw something that caught his attention. Though it was like a white flag against a snowy background he noticed the anomaly. It's hard to hold a candle, in a cold November rain. No.can't.worthless.stop. Mommy. Help. Darkness. NOOO! Still there. Mommy! The kid had finally given up on running lyrics through his head. Now he could learn something about the kid. He might have been able to do so if he knew something about psychology and if he had the foggiest idea of what those songs were about, but he knew nothing about the former or latter. He began to read the contents on the screen as they streamed across the shifting screen. Her hand. Grab it. Not there. Mommy, where are you?  
  
That feeling of incorrectness plagued Herald for hours without cease. It was like claws scratching at his brain just beyond the fray of his thoughts; sandpaper abrading against the soft tissue within his cranium. He tried reading to take his mind from the incessant annoyance, but it was as effective as trying to cut steel with paper. He began to wonder if he was going mad, but insanity did not run in his family. Maybe, he thought, it's a side effect of the machinery I've been working around. But he knew this was not true, he could feel it in his gut. Either way, he knew he could not quell the sensation in his mind.  
  
Sleep did not come easily for Emily that night. When she did finally slip into oblivion, she awoke, covered in sweat, mouth open wide as if in a scream, but no sound came forth. This was not her usual nightmare it was a morbidly distorted variation. She could feel the rumbling of the battle raging just beyond this mountain. She could see the corner where the Crasher was destroyed and a wayward piece of shrapnel tore into her leg. She does not move, though she wants to reach that corner, she is frozen in place. The sky above her is stained blood red so rich in color, that it feels like the skies will purge themselves of the unnatural pigment. She hears a crying in the distance. "Mommy!" It is Chris. His voice is pathetically weak. She spots movement peripherally. A jet black Core Avenger streaks silently only fifty feet above her head. It glides for a few seconds then disappears. "Mommy!" Chris again, closer this time and just as weak voiced. She turns to see him standing at the corner where the shrapnel struck her in reality. She desperately tries to shout to him to get away from there but she cannot draw a breath. The air is thick and heavy. All fell silent around her. Then a solitary explosion ripped through the air. The jettisoned shard of metal that was destined for her made contact with Chris. Erin's entire body felt as if someone gave her a Freon enema.  
  
Chris did not fly backward with the impact. Instead, he was cut in two by the flying projectile. Erin shot into the sitting position, drenched in cold sweat. The final macabre scene of her dream kept replaying itself through her weary mind. Her entire body shook violently. She hugged herself in a vain attempt to soothe the tremors. Paul snored softly beside her. A drop of drool had formed at the lower corner of his lips. He was happily oblivious to her trouble. Erin could not blame him for that, she would gladly take his place right now. The muscle in her right leg was twitching independently of her demands. With each twitch streams of pain shot up her thigh. Though the pain was more of an annoyance than anything, she still wished she had her painkillers. In their haste to leave their house earlier today, they had not thought of grabbing them. She pulled up the cotton shorts that Ingrid lent her and examined the large bruise marking her leg. The mark was about three inches across, though it had lost some of its size, it was quite big. She did not want Paul to know, but every time she utilized that muscle, pulses of pain, some small but some agonizingly hard, shot through her. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and eased out, trying not to disturb Paul's sleep, blissful or not. The clock beside the bed indicated that it was forty minutes past one. In six hours they were going to take Chris away from whoever was holding him prisoner or whatever. She thought of the nightmare and what it meant. She did not want to tax her mind too much or she would not be able to return to sleep because her mind would ceaselessly run over the same paths of thought repeatedly. So when she thought of an explanation, she thought no further. She was terrified, no, she was mortified of losing her baby boy. Still shaking from the nightmare, she walked into the bathroom. The tile was cold against her bare feet. With unsteady hands she turned the water on at the sink and splashed her face washing away the sweat. The cool water stung her face. Blindly, she grasped for a towel. Since this was an unfamiliar bathroom, it took her a few moments to locate one. Drying her face off, she returned the towel. She looked at the mirror in front of her. Her eyes were puffy from the broken sleep that has plagued her. "You look like hell." She told her reflection. Leaning against the sink top, she hung her head. When she looked up again. She nearly screamed in surprise. Staggering backwards, she collided with the wall, almost knocking a picture off its moorings. In the mirror, Chris was standing with his eyes closed and one arm extended, as if he was trying to reach out for something, or fend off an attacker. He had a tortured expression on his face. Creases stretched across his brow, his eyes were not merely closed buy clenched tightly together. His entire face was squeezed together. He looked horrified. Seeing her son like this made Erin's heart nearly break since right now there was nothing she could do. Then she blinked, and Chris' image was gone. Though this was not nearly as overwhelmingly intense as the other. She returned to bed though she believed that finding sleep again would be impossible. She dreamed again that night, but it was not the same dream that woke her earlier.  
  
During the entire voyage, the Machine that the commandeered Enterprises were escorting continually distributed defective spacecraft through space. Morris was commanded to regard those craft as an annoyance instead of a threat. Which meant that he was only to destroy them if he had no other standing orders. The faulty fighters were more likely to drift for eternity until a super nova, asteroid, or several other natural occurring space phenomena destroyed them long before an ADIT spacecraft destroyed them. Max pulled the Enterprises out of hyperspace and gradually slowed them into orbit around the destination planet. He activated the communication system and set the receiver to Max's phone's frequency. Waiting for Max to answer, Morris couldn't help but feel proud of himself. Max would surely grant him a higher position in the government that Max would control. "Hello." Max answered. "I'm orbiting the destination planet right now." "Good." "Have the parents arrived yet?" "No." "They sure are taking their time with rescuing their son. Are you sure they'll even come?" "They will, I guarantee it." Max hung up. Morris deactivated the system and removed the headset. All he wanted to do now was sleep because he was exhausted. He hasn't had sleep in almost twenty hours now. He thought about flopping down in the captain's seat, but the body was still there. Instead, he settled down in his seat at the communication's desk. Closing his eyes, he quickly fell asleep.  
  
4  
  
That nagging sensation of wrongness kept grinding against Herald's brain through the entire space jump. Now, he had to wait for the orders to man the drop ships and they could begin their assault on the final Machine. One more and they could finally go home. That thought quelled the vexing feeling in the back of his mind, partially. That order should be coming any time now. Herald shuffled into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He drank it slowly. The cool liquid quenched his thirst and he placed the glass into the sink to wash later. Science could make machines that could move hundreds times faster than the speed of light, but they could not make a machine that could wash dishes faster. That's what four thousand years of war does, Herald told himself. That order should be coming pretty soon. Odd, Herald thought to himself, the Captain usually does not waste this much time doing nothing. This is very odd indeed. In fact, not only the order Herald was awaiting not being announced on the intercom, nothing was being transmitted over the system. It was off. "The intercom's never off." Herald said out loud. "Something has to be wrong with the bridge." He stood and walked across the room to the door. Stepping outside he noticed the hallways were quiet. This was just as odd as the intercom being off, because there was always someone carrying out any of a plethora orders. "What the hell's going on here?" He asks the walls but expected no answer. He decided to check out the bridge to see if anything was awry. The feeling of wrongness returned to him as strong as before if not stronger. He did not see a single person the entire way to the bridge. Which was even more unusual than the intercom being deactivated. Surely he should have seen someone in the halls following a command of some kind or just someone walking around. It was like the entire crew was dead except for him. The only entrance to the bridge was just ahead of him. For security reasons the bridge entrance was in a secluded hallway that required key- codes to bypass the doors blocking the path. Beyond the security doors lay the bridge's entrance. Everyone on board the Enterprises knew the key- codes to unlock the security doors to the bridge. Herald stood before one of the doors. A small number pad was placed about shoulder level to the right of the door. Herald entered the eight-digit number. A word popped up on the screen above the number pad in neon red colors. Denied. "What?" Herald entered the digits again. Denied. "What's going on here?" He stopped to think. When he fell silent, he swore he could hear people talking on the other side of the door. Pressing his ear against the solid steel door he definitely heard voices from the other side. He struck the door with his fist and shouted to whoever was on the other side. "Hey!" His voice echoed back to him. The voices fell silent for a few moments, then one of them spoke. "Who is it?" It was a male but Herald could not place the voice to a name. "Herald Rager, one of the pilots. Who's this?" "Norman Scott, navigator." "What the hell is going on here?" Herald said, placing emphasis on hell. "The communications officer killed the Captain and took over the ship. He's locked everyone that was on the bridge in this little hallway." There was a sense of anger in his voice. A one-man mutiny, Herald thought, that's got to take guts and some serious planning, or just a psycho with a big gun. "He's jammed the door, I can't get in." "And we can't get out." "Do you have any idea where we are?" "I don't have any clue. Nobody does." Now there was a ring of helplessness in his voice, like the sound of a wounded animal being hunted by a pack of wolves. Whoever it was that was commandeering the ship, knew what he was doing. That was the sense of wrongness that grinded against Herald's mind. Now it was gone, and replaced by confusion. Why? That questioned nagged him as ceaselessly monotonous as the feeling of wrongness that plagued him earlier.  
  
The park bench was hard and cold but not as cold as the night was. Gary thought that he would not sleep that well. His hair was still damp from the bath he took a short while ago in the small pond inside the park. Though he wasn't able to clean himself as well as he could in a shower, he still washed away the sweat that had dried on his skin. The entire night, he danced at the edges of sleep and consciousness occasionally falling one way or another, but those never lasted long. The cold sank deep into his feet furthering his discomfort. Then at what he thought was two in the morning, a strong breeze carrying cold air amplified the chill in his feet. Finally, his fatigue, and maybe being numb all over had an impact too, overcame his physical discomfort and he fell asleep.  
  
The morning light stung Gary's eyes. His body was severely cramped from his unorthodox sleeping conditions. When he stood he felt as if his legs were going to buckle under his weight. After a few minutes this sensation subsided and all that remained cramped was his shoulders and neck. His body odor still clung to him like a magnet on steel. The bath he took in the park's pond had not totally cleaned him. His hair now had a noticeable luster from the buildup of natural oil from his scalp. It also itched from a layer of dandruff that generated since his last real bathing. Despite those discrepancies to acceptable hygiene, he still didn't stand out, yet. Another day of this, and his clothes would be filthy with sweat and other forms of grime. The city park was relatively close to the place where he told Paul and Emily to meet him. Just a little over a half-mile. The walk would be relaxing seeming that there was minimal traffic and the sun had not yet brought its heat to the day. With the morning sun to his back, Gary slowly wended his way to the meeting place. The air was fresh with the smell of dew and flowers, carrying from the park. The scents tantalized his nose almost making him forget that he was about to perform the single most dangerous act he could think of, infiltrating an ADIT building armed with only a single pistol and a rifle.  
  
"This is insane." He muttered to himself. Looking at the street signs before crossing a street, Gary knew the meeting place was just around the next corner.  
  
Paul awoke a little after six. He could hear Ingrid in the kitchen, busy with some task or another. He climbed out of the bed and stretched the cramps from his muscles. He walked to the end of the bed, pulled on his clothes from yesterday (that Ingrid cleaned). Grabbing Emily's foot he gently shook the appendage. "Wake up sunshine." He said sarcastically in the middle of a yawn. Emily stirred and kicked out of his grip. With a weary groan Emily lifted herself from the bed. She followed the same motions that Paul had already completed, stretching, walking to the end of the bed, and putting on the clothes that lay there. Since she had a rough night, Emily had difficulty remaining awake through breakfast. For a moment she could not remember how she arrived at Ingrid's, but with flashes of memory she soon recalled. She remembered that she and Paul would need an excuse to leave Helen here while they went to rescue Chris, but her sluggish mind was having difficulty concentrating on the coffee in front of her, let alone devising a believable lie. They would have to leave in about thirty minutes if they were to meet Gary when they said they would. When sleep at last relinquished Emily from its grip, she wanted to fall back asleep and spend the entire day blissfully oblivious. Thoughts of impending death filled her mind. Blood everywhere, so much blood. The walls, the ceiling, and the floor all swathed in crimson stains. The room spins. A distorted body lies in the center of the room. Squinting to try to blind herself from the macabre scene playing in her mind, Emily's hands began to shake violently. Then as suddenly as the vision came, it left. She could see the table, and that everybody was staring at her. Thank God Helen was at the bathroom. Ingrid was the first to speak. "What the hell was that?" A ring of concern echoed in her voice. "I saw something." Emily said. She felt drained, totally exhausted. "What was it?" Paul said, knowing what it might mean. "I saw.a room, blood, there was so much blood." Emily said, hugging herself. She was afraid that reciting the vision would cause another flash of it to appear in her mind. "The entire room was covered in it. And there was a.body laying in the middle of the floor." She was staring at the gap between the tabletop and the seat to her chair. Ingrid had a skeptical look on her face, but she was trying to conceal it, so she wouldn't offend Emily. Paul took Emily's hands in his to reassure her that everything will be alright. But there was nothing he could do or say to her that would soothe her. She knew someone was going to die, but she did not know who. Blood splattered across Emily's field of vision.  
  
"Mommy!" Chris said, almost to tears. His small hand grasped at air trying to clutch a nonexistent hand that he saw. Then he didn't see darkness any longer, there was no darkness brooding inside anymore. He saw a place that was oddly familiar. There was a giant sphere-looking machine in the middle of the room, and a man. A man sat at the desk just to the left of the sphere-thing, staring at a computer screen. The screen cast a bluish glow across the man's face, making him look alien. The man was dark. Not that he was black, his soul, his mind, his heart, things that cannot be seen, only felt, that's what was dark about him. Then Chris realized that the darkness he felt earlier was not darkness inside him, but the darkness of this man. The darkness seemed to pour out of him like water out of a faucet. He wanted to cause pain and suffering. The darkness was overwhelming. Chris could feel it pulling at him, as if it was beckoning him. The darkness pulled at him, though he resisted its magnetic pull, but his will weakened with every passing second. It looked comforting, but.NO! Can't do it. He told himself. But the darkness was as incessant as a droning rainstorm. "Stop! NOO!" He cried. His voice echoed back to him several times. Then he saw blackness again. Horrified that the darkness had consumed him, he began to cry. But he felt something familiar. Not a good familiar, like his mother's hand, not a bad familiar either, it was a curious familiar. He felt weightless, but there was a thick water-like substance underneath him. He remembered this feeling, but faintly. The last he felt this was when he woke up and all he saw was black.  
  
Stop! NOO! The garble of words streaming across the screen before Max was confusing as hell. It was as if the kid was thinking random words. Black. Odd. Familiar. Mom. Ouch. Remember. "What the hell are you thinking about?" Max said. Demanding coherency even though he knew the kid could not hear him, Max pounded his fist on the desk. Max was growing bored watching the endless trail of thoughts scrolling across the screen. This was not as intriguing as it once was. He stood and walked over to the other side of the sensory deprivation chamber. He walked to the spot where one of the doctors killed the other with a heavy glass beaker. Placing his hands on the machinery lining the portion of the wall where the dead doctor struck. Some of the machines were dented or cracked. No blood remained from the incident. The cleaning crew did an excellent job. That disappointed Max. He wanted to see some organic proof that the man was dead, not that he denied the happening; he just wanted to see some blood. He moved to the small corridor where the security guard was found with the neck of the beaker in his neck. No blood here either. In desperate need for excitement, Max walked back to the desk, sat in his chair and began to wonder what it would be like to kill the boy's parents. Wondered what it would be like to see the crimson fluid in their veins spill onto the floor, wondered what the look on their faces would be like when he killed one of them. Would they be surprised, terrified, shocked, angry, what? No longer bored, Max kept those thoughts in his mind as he returned his attention to the boy's thoughts, as boring as they were.  
  
Blood splattered across Emily's field of vision. Horror stricken, a scream caught in her throat. Crimson is all she saw. Blood everywhere. Panicking she shot out of her chair and backed into a wall. She didn't remember standing out of her seat. One moment she was sitting, the next her back was against a wall. Blood stained every orifice. Then it was gone. No blood stained the walls. Only Paul and Ingrid sitting at a table in a kitchen, each with a mixed look of confusion, concern, and shock on their faces. Then Paul shot out of his seat and rushed over to her. "Honey, are you alright?" He said. Then he leaned forward and whispered. "Just follow my lead." Then he winked. "I don't know." Emily said, not sure of what to say. "I think you had some bad food. We better get you to a hospital." Paul said. He grabbed Emily by the arms gently and led her to a chair and sat her down. All the while, Emily tried to act like she wasn't feeling well, which wasn't too hard. "What, what happened?" Ingrid said deeply concerned about her friend. Acting like he was in a panic Paul answered her while he grabbed their shoes. "I think she has some food poisoning. I knew some of that food didn't look right." "Well, get her to the hospital then." Ingrid said. She believed them. Thank God for gullibility. "Can you watch Helen while I take her to the hospital?" Paul said while he helped Emily put her shoes on after he had slipped his own on. "Of course." She ran over to a key rack on the wall behind her and grabbed a set of keys. "Here, take my hover car." She handed the keys to Paul. Emily felt like a child faking sick so they wouldn't have to go to school. After Paul tied her last shoe, she stood and Paul placed his arms around her so it would look like he was helping her walk. Just before they exited the door, Paul looked back and said, "I'll give you a call when we reach the hospital." Then he closed the door behind them before Ingrid could say anything that would spoil their plan. Once outside, Paul let go of Emily and they both sprinted for Ingrid's hover car parked on the side of the road. Emily wrenched open the passenger door and quickly got into the vehicle. It took Paul an extra second or two to run around the front of the hover car and get in the driver's seat. Paul jammed the key in the ignition and slammed the accelerator to the floor. The engine released a sharp whine and the vehicle shot forward. Emily let out a deep sigh of relief once they left Ingrid's block. "Tell me one thing. How were you able to think of all that so quickly?" "I don't know it just hit me." Paul said, relieved that Ingrid didn't see through their lie. "But that was a pretty good job of acting sick." "That wasn't all an act. When I slammed into the wall, I was having another vision." Emily winced when the memory of Ingrid's kitchen smothered in blood. It was so real she swore that the metallic scent of blood hung in the air. "You okay?" Paul said, glancing over at Emily but returning his attention to the road. "Yeah." She lied. She loathed herself for all the lying she's been forced to do over the past day. Emily's blood ran colder than ice. Hugging herself she bent forward and stared at the space between her feet. "Why do I have this.power, this.curse? Why me? Why can't it be someone else?" Paul couldn't think of anything to say to any of her questions. "I don't want it anymore." Emily said with a wavering voice. She blinked back tears burning in her eyes. "It'll be alright." Paul said trying to soothe Emily the best he could. "No, it's not." Emily said, blinking back more tears. "Remember, last month, when you asked if I was having anymore visions or feelings any more?" "Yes. You said no." "That was a lie. I was fooling myself. I was getting feelings everyday. Every goddamned day!" Emily stopped to gather emotions. "But some of them weren't coming true. Not like before the Battle of Cocytus. So I wasn't sure if they would come true or not until they happened." "Wouldn't that mean your.it's decreasing." "You'd think so wouldn't you?" Emily said sarcastically. "But I don't see how that could be bad." "Last week, I got a feeling that Chris would gone soon. I can't explain it." Emily could not restrain her emotions further. Breaking into a sob her speech was broken. "I knew our little boy was going to be taken away and I didn't do anything to prevent it." "Did you know when, where, or anything like that?" Paul said. "No." Emily said through her sobs. "Then what could you done?" Paul said trying to alleviate her anguish. "I don't know." Realizing that he had let up on the accelerator, Paul pushed the engine harder. The speedometer read eighty miles per hour. If a cop happened to cruise by, Paul would have difficulty explaining why he was doing better than three times the speed limit. Reluctantly, he slowed to thirty. "I just don't know." Emily said again in a tortured voice. The tone of her voice made Paul's heart ache like never before. Paul felt like someone had torn every other thought from his mind, leaving only sympathy and compassion. A cold silence fell over them. Icy fingers probed the length of Paul's spine. For the first time in their marriage, Paul felt awkward with Emily. He could not think of a single word that could soothe her, but he doubted that there were any words in the language that could comfort Emily right now. Not being able to do anything bore a hole into Paul's heart. Now the compassion and sympathy that clouded his mind changed into helplessness. He glanced at Emily. She was still hunched over, her head supported on her upturned hands. Paul could not tell what she was feeling because her hair hung down, concealing her face. Releasing the wheel with his right hand, he extended it and stroked her back soothingly. Sometimes, when no words can do justice, a simple action can speak volumes. "Someone is going to die today." Emily spoke but didn't move. "But I don't know who." Her voice was dry and flat. "I'm afraid that it'll be you or me." Her voice wavered a little but she remained in control. Paul pulled over to the side of the road. "Emily, sit up." Paul said pulling gently upwards at her shoulder. Eventually she sat up, but refused to make eye contact with him. He pulled over. He twisted in his seat so he could face Emily as much as possible. Taking her nearest hand within his, he began to talk in as comforting a voice as he could. "Emily, I need you, Chris needs you, and if you don't get a hold of yourself." Paul didn't have to finish his sentence, Emily knew what he was going to say. Emily looked at Paul directly. The look in her eyes was one of sincerity, but she still possessed a painful expression on her face. Leaning across the gear shift, Emily wrapped her arms around Paul and buried her face in his shoulder. Paul hugged her back and kissed her neck lightly. They released from their embrace. Paul pulled back onto the road and continued towards the meeting place.  
  
5  
  
Gary had hidden their weapons behind a dumpster just around the corner. He just prayed to God that a vagrant had not found them and pawned them off for booze money. His stomach was tied in a knot as he reached apprehensively behind the dumpster. Nothing. His heart rate skyrocketed. Frantically he searched the dark space. Panic filled his mind, without the weapons they would have no chance at even taking a single step inside the ADIT base. His hand struck something hard. He froze. He jumped his hand back to where he felt the object. Gripping it, he pulled it out. Letting out a sigh of relief, he saw that he had extracted the pistol. He shoved it in the waist of his pants and reached into the darkness. He found the rifle a short time later and he concealed that in his shirt. He stood, making sure the weapons let no conspicuous bulges in his clothes and sat back on the bench next to a bus stop. Acting as nonchalantly as a man with two weapons concealed in his clothes could, Gary stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. All he could do now was wait. Waiting could be as easy as breathing, but also as difficult as computing calculus without the assistance of a calculator. The wind blew gently carrying the smell of nearby garbage. A stray dog trotted by on the other side of the street. Gary watched the animal lift one of its back legs beside the base of a telephone pool and relieve itself, then it turned around the corner and out of sight. People walked by him almost like a river. Some laughed, some talked, some only walked by. Others stared at him with one of two expressions, pity or disgust. Gary wanted to punch the people that looked at him with the latter. Those were the type of people who never knew heartache. They didn't know the bitter taste of life's waste. They had no clue how ruthless life could be, they didn't have a clue. Black clouds stirred on the horizon, threateningly ominous. But the people lived out their lives as if they did not see the oncoming downpour. Gary longed for that blissful ignorance. A hover car pulled up along side the curb. Gary would have ignored it, except that the passenger door was flung open and Emily stepped out. "Get in." She said quickly, pushing her seat forward so he could clamber into the backseat. With some maneuvering and twisting, he wiggled into the backseat. "Damn two-doors." Gary said once he was fully inside the vehicle. Emily returned the seat into its normal position so she could sit down. Shutting the door, Emily looked back at Gary. She looked despondent. "Did you get the weapons?" There wasn't a hint of any emotion in her voice. Gary said nothing, he just pulled out the pistol and rifle that were concealed under his clothes. Emily took them both and inspected them. "Despite being a little dirty, they both look good." Emily said with the same vitality as before, none. "What do you mean 'they look good'?" Gary asked. "The energy coils can become inoperative if they are stored at low temperatures." Paul answered his question without taking his eyes off the road. "Since they were kept outside all night, the energy coils might have shut down and the gun won't fire." Emily elucidated the problem for Gary. "Oh." Gary said. "Both of their energy levels are up and it seems to me that they're still working, but we really won't know until we try to fire them." "If they don't work, we're up shit creek without a boat." Paul added. "Hell, not only will we not have a boat, we'll have lead weights strapped to our feet." Emily said sarcastically, but her voice was still emotionless.  
  
Herald was beginning to worry about the people locked inside the corridor. They've been in there for over fifteen hours and probably haven't had any food, water, or bathroom visits in seventeen, maybe longer in some cases. He had tried every measure he could think of to open the door, but all of them failed. Also, he had a feeling that the situation had become more urgent than what it once was. There was no logical explanation for his feeling, but he felt it in his gut that he needed to get those people out of there soon. He slumped against the door and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. The steel beneath him was cold. Pangs of hunger shook his stomach violently, he hadn't eaten in almost eleven hours now. If hunger was attacking him this hard already, he could only imagine what the people trapped in the corridor felt. Standing, he surveyed the situation in his mind. The door was locked, the terminal to open the door was frozen, and the ships computer was under the complete control of the communications officer. There was no way to open this door. He said to himself. He felt utterly hopeless. With a rush of rage, he kicked the panel next to the door. Either he struck it harder than he thought or the panel was only hanging there. Because it issued a harsh clang and flew out of its moorings. Herald watched the piece of panel skip across the floor and stall against the wall. He turned his attention to the section of wall void of panel. Something hit him. He knew this was important, but he didn't know how. He stared at the tubes, gears, and several dozen other items in the exposed cavity. Crouching down in front of it, he examined the gears more closely. There was three that he could see, a small one that was connected by a metallic band to something that he could not see, a larger one whose teeth were interlocked into the small gear, and an even larger gear that was connected to the medium sized gear on the top and to a track on the underside. Then he knew what it was, this was the system that moved the door! "If I could only somehow knock that big gear out of the track, the door should open." He mumbled under his breath. Then he remembered the lock. "Shit." His plan wouldn't work. Even if he was able to remove the gear from its place, the lock would still hold the door shut. He tried to think of where the lock would be located. Remembering that when the doors closed a notch in the door slid into the doorjamb. Logic would say that the lock would be there. Shuffling to the other side of the door, he stood and took a guess at where the notch was. When he made his decision, he took a step back, and kicked as hard as he could at the panel. A cacophonous crash rang through the hallway, but the panel held fast. Herald kicked again, a dent formed in the panel causing it to buckle around the edges, but still the panel didn't fall. Again, nothing. Frustration clouded his thoughts, and he kicked again. The panel popped out of its spot and fell to the floor with a clatter. Herald looked into the new hole. There was a large steel box just inside the cavity. This was the locking system, there was no doubt in his mind. He leaned close to the box to get a better look at it. From what he could see, there was no way to open it. But he could not see the other side. He had to remove the outer casing to be able to manually remove the lock. He looked around for something he could use as a club or lever to break open the steel casing. The entire hallway was empty other than the disheveled panels and those would be too flimsy for Herald's needs. Then he thought he might be able to shoot through the casing with his laser pistol issued to him. But that was dangerous. The shot might ricochet off the steel and who knows where it will go from there, or the shot could go straight through the casing and hit somebody on the other side, or it could just stop dead in the casing causing little or no damage. After some deliberation, he figured the risk was worth taking considering he felt he needed to get those people out soon. He sprinted for his cabin.  
  
Getting a flight off of the planet was no real problem for Elise or Louis, because ADIT supplied their teams for every possible contingency. One of them included the need for money, so the team was given some money to use if the situation deemed necessary. Louis and Elise used that to buy themselves tickets on the next shuttle off the planet, they didn't care where they were going as long as it was away from ADIT. Terminally, however, they would have to leave the Arm's territory for Earth. The interplanetary flight was several hours long, but they were only another hour from landing. The transport ships were not as fast as the cruisers and capital ships Louis was used to, making him feel that they had traveled farther than they actually did. He looked over his shoulder and watched Elise sleep. He knew he should have slept too, but he could not. Worry cluttered his thoughts. Worry of ADIT, and what they would do to them if they caught them. Even though ADIT would not be expecting a turn of events such as this one, and would not look for them for at least another day. By that time, he expected to be out of the Arm territory and out of their reach. Even though they were a secret organization, they could not touch the Earth, simply because the government watched the planet too closely. Anyway, they were only two people, ADIT could replace them just as easily as a broken pane of glass is replaced. ADIT would probably only search for them moderately at best. Beyond his portside window, stars flickered against the eternal blackness. Yesterday those beacons appeared desolate. But now they shone with a warm light, the light of hope. Elise murmured something in her sleep and shifted her position. She rested her head against his shoulder and let her hand fall onto his chest. Louis wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. An elderly woman sitting in the seat next to Elise glanced over at them. A warm smile formed on her lips. Louis returned it with a smile of his own. She looked away and returned to whatever thoughts that ran through her mind before. Combing Elise's hair through his fingers, Louis didn't want this flight to end. He wished he could spend the rest of eternity like this.  
  
Herald returned with his gun. Stepping as close to the door as he could, he shouted to the people beyond the door. "I think I know a way to get you out of there! I want everybody to get as low as you can and cover your faces!" Giving them the time they needed to follow his directions, Herald walked back about ten feet. Not wanting to have to take two shots, he carefully aimed for the steel box. He looked away, just in case metal was thrown at him. Hesitantly, he pulled the trigger. The weapon fired with a shriek of super-charged electrons. Then a sound similar to metal scraping against metal reverberated through the hall. Inside the isolated hallway, screams echoed sharply in Herald's ears. He ran up to the door, to see where his shot made contact. It tore a gaping hole in the side of the metal box. Not a perfect shot, but it would do. The box hung loosely on the doorframe, but it was still too firmly attached for him to pull it off with his hands. The smell of smoldering metal wafted across Herald's nose. Backing up, he kicked the ravaged metal box. With a hard clang, the box fell from its moorings. The lock was exposed. Examining the lock, Herald's sense of urgency disappeared altogether. He saw a piece of heavy metal that ran horizontally into the notch in the door. He grabbed it and pulled downward, but the task was not easy. At first, the metal beam did not budge. But after several hard yanks, the beam slid. Only a few inches, but it was progress. He pulled harder. Then the levee broke. The obtrusive piece of metal suddenly pulled entirely out of the slot and Herald nearly fell over. Throwing the bar away, Herald was filled with satisfaction. Placing his hands firmly on the door, he slowly worked the door open a crack. Slipping his hands into the crevice, he threw the door wide. Inside the closure, fifteen people laid on their stomachs. Not a one of them moving. Then they realized the door was open, they exploded with life. All of them sprinted, or as close as people who haven't eaten in fifteen hours could, for the door. Herald had to spin to the side to avoid being trampled. Once outside, they came to a stop and thanked Herald. "Thank you." "Bless your soul." "Thank God." "You're a good man." And several others. He had never been hugged and kissed so much in such a small timeframe before. The people all went to the cafeteria or the bathroom since they hadn't gone to either for quite a while. Herald didn't go to the cafeteria or the bathroom, instead he walked to the door leading to the bridge. It was locked, just as he thought it would be. He began to pound on the door. "Hey! Who's in there?!" No response. Just as he thought. There was no easy way to open this door like there was the last one. The door to the bridge had multiple locking mechanisms and several of them interlocked to make it even stronger. It would take him hours to manually unlock this door even if he had the right equipment, which he didn't. It didn't matter if he could onto the bridge or not. Because the people he rescued said that he had a big gun, probably fully automatic. If he entered the man on the bridge would blow him away easily. If he could not stop this madman, Herald was going to make sure he couldn't hurt anybody else.  
  
"Ok, Gary. Where is this facility?" Emily said with a little more emotion in her voice than before, but it wasn't much. "We'll need to get on an interplanetary flight to get there." He said. He was about to tell them where the nearest spaceport was but Emily interrupted him before he could say anything. "What?! You mean we have to go to another planet! How? We don't have any money, and we have no way to get any!" Now she had emotion in her voice. "Hang on a minute." Gary said trying to calm Emily down. "Before I came to this planet, I knew this would happen. So I bought three open date tickets through the spaceport here." Emily let out a sigh of relief as her sudden outburst was cooled. "Which spaceport is it?" Paul said from the driver's seat. "Aero Planet." Gary said. "Where do we go?" "Right. Then just drive, it should be on the left side." Gary said after looking around, finding his bearings. Nobody spoke in the car the entire way to the spaceport, a total of ten minutes. The air was thick enough that Emily swore that she could have cut it, and served it as a sandwich. She had difficulty drawing a breath. Several times during the ride, she became dizzy and light-headed. Trying not to alarm Paul, she looked out the passenger window to hide her face from him. She was overcome by the feeling of death. She couldn't describe it, she just knew what it was. Like the way animals know an earthquake is going to happen. The air grew thicker. Breathing became harder. Thicker still. It was like breathing glue. "Emily." She heard Paul's voice calling to her. It sounded like he was talking through water. "Emily." His voice sounded more urgent this time. "Emily." Suddenly the air returned to its normal viscosity and she drew a sharp and ragged breath. The feeling of death was gone. "What's wrong?" He asked worriedly. Winded, Emily could not speak. Paul had his hand gently rested on her shoulder. Obviously, he was shaking her and she didn't even realize it. "Are you okay?" Emily nodded her head in a lie and hoped that Paul would believe it. More lying. When am I going to stop? She asked herself. It didn't look like he believed her but he dropped the subject. Emily looked out the windshield. They had arrived at the spaceport, but she wasn't sure how long they had been sitting here. A few seconds, a few minutes, she couldn't tell. Probably only from the time Paul called to her. That gave her some comfort that not too much precious time was waste, but not much. Paul opened his door and stepped out, Emily did the same. Gary climbed out of the back seat with considerably more effort than it took him to climb in. A cold wind struck Emily as she stepped free of the car. It felt ominous. The entrance to the spaceport loomed five feet over their heads. Walking to the door, it slid open silently as if it was floating on a pocket of air. Stepping across the threshold the door shut as silently as it opened.  
  
The air conditioned atmosphere tasted dry and smelled faintly of disinfectant. If they had to wait too long, Emily would become sick to her stomach from the odor and dryness of the air. She already felt queasy. She knew she would develop a headache too if they lingered too long. There wasn't much business this early in the morning, but about twenty or so people waiting for their flight. They walked across the giant room to the ticket counter. A man dressed in a red vest and black pants stood on the other side of the desk. A computer monitor was placed just off to the right of him. He looked at Gary oddly and said, "How may I help you?" Gary stepped forward. "I have three open date tickets registered under Gary Hawthorne." "Okay, sir." The man said. His fingers flew across the keyboard bringing up the necessary information. "I'll need to see some ID." "Of course." Gary said, reaching into his pocket. Emily swore she heard something tear in his clothes. Gary extracted a somewhat soiled wallet. Opening it he pulled out his ID card. It was only about two by three inches and was covered in a hard clear plastic-like substance. The man in the red vest took it and examined the numbers on the screen to see if they matched the ones on the screen. Once he determined Gary was who claimed he was, he returned Gary's ID to him and struck more keys on his keyboard permitted them through. There was no actual physical tickets exchanged, everything was done electronically. "You're flight leaves in forty-three minutes." The man said with a phony smile. "Thank you." Gary said turning away and walking to the other side of the terminal. They sat on the bench closest to the gate through which they would have to leave. Then Emily remembered the weapons. Nudging Paul, she leaned closer to him so she would only have to whisper. "Did you get the guns?" Paul simply nodded and pointed to the vaguely noticeable bulge in Gary's jacket. "How will we get them past security?" "Gary was telling me about that during the drive here." What?! Emily thought. I must have been out of it longer than I thought. That thought scared Emily a little. The fact that she had completely lost all consciousness and didn't even realize it. "This place doesn't need it. On the doors to the spacecraft, they have implanted an small EMP device." Paul didn't need to explain any further, Emily knew what an EMP device did to electronics. Since all weapons have at least one electronic piece in them, the ploy never failed. It deactivated the weapons and rendered them useless. Paul walked over to the payphone on the other side of the terminal to call Ingrid and tell her that they'll have to stay at the hospital awhile and to keep Helen calm. The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow. Every time Emily glanced at the clock on the wall above the entrance, she expected it to read a few minutes before they departed, but in fact only five minutes had drifted by since the last time she looked. Between the dryness and odor in the air, Emily had developed a queasiness in her stomach. She felt like she was going to vomit any minute. On top of that, a small headache flared just behind her left eye. She could feel it growing worse by the minute. She needed to get out of here, now. Their flight was called. Thank God. She thought. They all stood up and walked to the gate through which their flight will be leaving.  
  
6  
  
Using a communication device along one of the walls, Herald was able to program the device to send his message everywhere on the ship, except for the area around the bridge. "Attention everybody." Herald was not used to this. "Our ship has been commandeered by a madman. This is not a joke. I suggest that everybody leave the ship and go to the nearest star base. I repeat, this is not a joke. The ship has been taken over by a madman. It would be in your best interest to leave the ship as soon as possible." He cut off the communication and prayed it would be enough. He sprinted for the hanger. If his plan worked, that place would become a madhouse with everybody fighting for spacecraft. He wasn't going to wait till the end and make sure everybody was off the ship, he wasn't that noble or stupid. The hanger was huge, hundreds of ships lined the floor and several more were on the upper level. A few dozen people were already there, some were panicking, others were getting into their own spacecraft. Herald knew which ship he wanted. The Raven. A fighter with an abnormally long range. He quickly found the beast. It was very large and consequentially, it was slow. But where Herald was going, he didn't need speed. Herald jumped in the cockpit and closed the hatch. He slipped the helmet on out of habit and punched in the activation code. The ship hummed to life. He pulled out of the hanger and programmed the hyperspace computer for his destination. The engines primed themselves as they prepared for the jump. At the last second, Herald looked behind him and saw all of the Enterprises guiding a large thing while they orbited an unfamiliar planet.  
  
"What the hell?" He said confused. He was about to kill the hyperspace jump, but it activated just as he turned back around.  
  
The flight was arduous. Emily kept thinking that when they arrived it would be too late. Several times on the flight, she broke out into cold sweats and kept feeling claustrophobic. When the flight was over, Emily was never more relieved. "Where is this facility now?" Paul demanded as the three of them stood outside the spaceport. "It's not too far from here. It's a few miles over that mountain." Gary pointed to a forested mountain beyond the city. "How do you expect us to travel that far? We're certainly not walking that far." Paul said adamantly. "I had this all planned out before I even went to Deneb. I have a hover car hidden in an alley not too far from here. We'll use that to get to the facility and back." "Then what do we if get back?" "I have a flight lined up on a small charter." Gary led them around a few corners to the hover car he said he had hidden.  
  
"Wait here. I'll go get the car and bring it out here." Gary disappeared into the alley. The planet was strange. Though it was ecologically similar to Deneb, there was something alien about this place. She could feel the difference at the edges of her senses but could not discern what it was. Just then Gary pulled out of the alley with the hover car. Emily and Paul climbed in the backseat. They drove for a minute or two in silence. "You still haven't told us why they took Chris." Emily spoke first. "And every time you tried we got interrupted. Tell us now." "Okay." Gary took a deep breath. "Ten years ago, on the planet Salak, a Core energy flux was spotted by a recon squad. A small attack squad was formed and dispatched to the planet. The energy flux that was spotted was first thought to be a Core base. But there was no defenses or units in the area, just the energy flux. A Gemini capital ship was sent there to destroy the source of the flux. Once it was destroyed, a board of inquiry was sent there to find the cause of the flux. What they found was kept secret. They found a self-sufficient production facility that could defend itself for every kind of assault, they were called Machines. I don't know all the details but I do know that recently that there has been an explosion of concern over the destruction of these Machines. Somehow, your boy, Chris knows the locations of the Machines." "But how did the government learn that he knew. They can't know what he's thinking." Paul said. "His story 'Finding Eden' contains the locations of the Machines in the text. Don't ask me how they made the connection, that's where this story gets fuzzy. But they couldn't get exact locations of the Machines with the story. So they kidnapped your son to see if he knew where they were, but I couldn't help but think there was something else behind it. They made you think he was dead so they could do anything they wanted to him without fear of getting caught." "Oh, Jesus." Paul muttered. That explains the visions of Chris I've been having. Emily thought to herself. Apparently extra sensory perception is inheritable, because her little boy has the "gift," or "curse." She prayed, for his sake, that he learns to control it so he doesn't have to know the anguish she has known, he could just turn off the feelings. "Once they learned where the Machines were, they sent out an army to destroy them. I don't know how many are destroyed or anything I just know they're doing it." "What are they going to do with him once the Machines are destroyed?" Emily asked with a hint of worry in her voice. "I don't know exactly. But I think they may." Gary cut his voice off right there, not daring to speak the next word. Tears welled in Emily's eyes, but she blinked them back. An eerie silence fell over the car. Like the silence in a graveyard at midnight. The type of silence that made your skin crawl. "What did you mean when you said that you thought there was something else behind it?" Paul asked, sitting on the edge of his seat. "It just feels like there's something else behind this. It just doesn't make any damn sense. Kidnapping is one thing, they have no problem with kidnapping. But psychological extortion of a child is something completely different. We are only human, and most people would have trouble doing that to another human being. It just seems logical that they would use Chris for something more." There was a touch of guilt hidden in Gary's voice, like he was trying to suppress it but the emotion was getting the better of him. Green leaved trees passed on either side of them as they left the city. Emily grew cold. She hugged herself to try and dispel the chill from her body, but she only grew colder. At first she thought the change in temperature was only because they were ascending a mountain, but when she saw that neither Paul or Gary were affected by the chill that plagued her, she knew it had to be her. Then she felt something dark. She couldn't place the feeling it was just.dark. She thought it would pass, but the closer they drew to the facility, the colder she became. Something morbid lay behind that darkness, it was faint, but she could feel it. Though she was cold, sweat poured from her. Her arms were seized by shivers. She felt a warm spot form on her right shoulder. Glancing over that shoulder she saw that Paul had placed a hand on her, his eyes showed that he was concerned more than deeply. He was concerned to the very essence of his soul. Looking in the rearview mirror, Emily saw a face that was only vaguely familiar. She was stark white. She could clearly see the individual drops of sweat as they ran down her face. Her cheek bones were sharp looking. Her hair clung to the sides of her face. She looked far older and far less attractive. She quickly deterred her eyes from the mirror. The darkness became stronger, almost unbearable. She could feel it pressing against her thoughts. Looking at Paul once more, she saw his lips move, but she heard nothing. It looked like he was saying, 'Are you okay?' Then he looked towards Gary and said something more, but again, no sounds caressed her ears. Her heart accelerated sharply. It hammered against her ribs. More sweat poured from her. The hover car stopped suddenly. She knew she wasn't deaf, because she heard the blood pumping through the veins in her ears. But there was some other noise she could not place. Somehow she knew it was the sound of the darkness. Somehow, deep down, in the primitive recesses of her memory, she knew. The darkness pressed harder, it was like being in a vise. She began to scream a silent scream under the tremendous force pressing against her mind. Her heart hammered harder, it felt like it was smashing against her chest. Then she saw an image of Chris. The pressure on her mind ceased, and her hearing returned completely in a huge rush. Paul was shaking her shouting her name. She looked at him. He ceased. He hugged her fiercely. She hugged back, seeking support. "What's wrong?!" Gary asked. "I don't know. I just felt so cold, and there was a darkness. I don't know what it was, but I know it's near Chris." She said quickly. "Are you okay? You had me worried." Paul said. "I'm fine." Then she asked herself, am I lying? Quickly she returned the answer, no. It felt good not to lie.  
  
Through the suffocating darkness, Chris saw his mother. Exploding in jubilation, he said over and over in his mind, 'she's coming, she's coming.' His mommy was coming to bring him home. Home. He longed to see his room again, to lay in his bed, to play with his toys. 'She's coming.' Then he remembered the dark man outside was watching his thoughts somehow. In his excitement he had forgotten. Now, from his mistake, he would know that his mother was coming and he could do something to stop her. 'He'll kill her.' Where did that come from? Who said that? It sounded like me, but I know I didn't say that. Chris thought. Questions rattled through his mind. But he knew the answers to them all, he just couldn't accept them. Sweat poured out of his pores as the flames panic were fanned by every thought that ran through his mind.  
  
Max smiled wickedly. "So they're finally coming." He said to himself out loud. Standing up he walked to the far side of the room. A small metallic door lay flush in the wall. He pressed his right thumb to a small pad on the door's locking mechanism. A green light flashed as the lock was disengaged. Opening the door, Max saw an array of weaponry residing within. The closet held everything from pistols to assault rifles. Since he did not have the knowledge to operate the rifles or machine guns properly, he extracted a pair of pistols. He tucked one in his pants beneath the small of his back and kept the other in his hand. He was ready for when the parents arrived.  
  
Chris didn't know what happened, one second he's staring into blackness, the next he's watching a man next to a computer. It was the dark man again. The darkness flowing from him was strong, but not overwhelming like it once was. Then the dark man moved. But the darkness that he had felt earlier didn't move with him. Instead it kept flowing from the chair the dark man sat in. How could a chair pulse with that much darkness? Then Chris realized that it was not the dark man that possessed the darkness he felt, it was something else. The dark man had his own powerful blackness, but it was not ravaging as the other source. What ever it was, it lay beyond the wall, but Chris could not tell what it was, or he was too afraid to look.  
  
7  
  
"Did you plan out how we would actually break into this facility?" Paul asked from the backseat. A giant chain link fence barred their path. It seemed to go on forever. "Not exactly." Gary said as he watched the man from the guard tower talk on the phone, probably with one of his superiors about what he should do with them. "Great." Emily said sarcastically. So close yet so far.  
  
"You want me to do what?" The guard on the other end said, apparently surprised at the command. "I want you to let them in." Max said. He wanted the parents to make it into the lab. "Whatever you say sir." The guard disconnected the line.  
  
Emily watched as the guard walked up to the driver's window and rapped on the glass for Gary to open it. With some perceptible reluctance, Gary opened the window. "Doctor," The guard said. "You can pass." Then he walked away. Gary stared out the window in absolute confusion. Rolling up the window, the gate was opened and Gary proceeded through. "What the fuck?" He said. "It shouldn't have been that easy! I have clearance to enter, but I can't just drag two people in with me when I feel like it!" He said punching the dashboard. "Something's wrong. You're right it shouldn't have been that easy, at the least we should have been asked for identification." Emily said. "I don't like this. They're just letting us get through. That's the only reason I can think of." "If they're letting us get through, that means they know we're coming." Paul said as worry ran through his fading voice. Emily remembered the visions of blood and murder she saw this morning. She knew the answer, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. She told herself, sometimes the visions are wrong. But this one felt so real. Stop it. They're going to kill you and Paul. No, it could be wrong. It felt real. Stop. A macadam driveway wound a path around and over hills for what looked like eternity. The facility Gary spoke of was nowhere in sight. Emily sat back in her seat and tried to relax, but she could not untie the knots in her stomach. Something horrible was waiting for them, she could feel it. They're going to kill you. Turn around. No. We can't turn around. I want my boy back. Attempting to silence her inner conflict, she gazed out the window. A thick layer of frost had formed on the blades of grass. During all of her years of military service, her thirty years of life, she had never seen snow. She knew the prospect of seeing the floating flakes falling should have been exciting, but her thoughts were too occupied to find even the slightest joy in something as trivial as snow. The sky was somber gray. Not a single ray of light broke through the clouds to shine on them. The wind moaned as it pressed against the windows. "The installation is coming up here." Gary said from the front seat. Paul leaned forward to get a better view through the windshield. "Where is it?" "Right there at the foot of that mountain." Gary pointed at a small steel structure butting against the rocky face of a mountainside. "It looks too small to be a military facility." "Most of it is built inside the mountain." "Oh." Paul said then he sat back against his seat. Looking at Emily, he placed his hand on her knee reassuringly. He wondered if she was alright. She was abnormally quiet. No one spoke another word until they came to another gate much like the first, but this one was twice as high and was made of concrete. Unlike the first gate, this didn't have a guard at the entrance. It only had a sheltered computer terminal that was elevated so that the driver could reach it without stepping out of their car. "How do we get in?" Paul asked. "I have to put a code and a fingerprint to this computer, and if the system in the facility says their acceptable, the gate will open." Gary answered with a touch of futility in his voice. "So if your codes don't work, we're fucked." Emily said. Paul looked at her a little shocked at her choice in words. "Not necessarily. I broke out of this place. There's a place in the wall where it's a little easier to get over then here. If the codes don't work, we'll get in there." "Why don't we just do that then?" "Because, if we go in there it will look like we're breaking in. If we enter this way, it will look like I've captured you." "Are you sure they'll buy that?" "Yes, because back on the highway, when we were ambushed, they didn't want to kill us, if they did, they would have destroyed the car instead of just disabling it." Gary rolled down his window to gain access to the computer terminal. Something didn't feel right. Something was wrong. "Wait!" Emily shouted just as Gary's hand reached the terminal. "It can't be this easy, they know we're coming. If we enter here, they'll kill us." Gary looked at her puzzled. "Are you sure?" Paul asked. "I don't know. But there's something wrong here." Emily was breathing quickly and shallowly. Explosions flashed before her eyes. "We can't enter here." "Ok." Gary said exasperatedly. He pulled away from the gate and began to slowly drive along the concrete wall. "The place I was talking about is on the other side of the wall. It will take us some time to drive that far."  
  
Max picked up his phone and struck several numbers. When the other side answered he said, "Have they come through yet?" "No, not yet." "Dammit, they should have arrived by now." Max said, punching the table. "This oncoming storm is playing hell with our electronics. We can't get a clear view on the other side of the wall with any of the cameras. It looks pretty nasty. I think it would be better if we came in, I don't think they'll be coming through the main gate." "Alright, bring your men in. Station yourselves at the main entrance. I want to know immediately if you find them. Don't kill the parents, I want them alive." Max disconnected. He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the pulsing headache in his skull. Why do people always want to do things the hard way?  
  
First the wind came. Gently at first, but it quickly grew in intensity. Thick branches were wiped around as if they were merely twigs. It pressed against the hover car, making it nearly impossible to drive. But Gary managed. The moaning wind felt like an omen. A white flake struck the windshield. It melted quickly and hung on the glass. Just like the wind, it rapidly gained force. In less then a minute the downy flakes were coming down noticeably. In two, it began to gather on the ground. White was everywhere, on the ground, in the trees, and in front of them. Visibility was fading with each passing second. At first, Emily surprised herself when she was a little giddy when she saw the first snowflake. But when the world was transformed to white, and she began to feel the chill of the blizzard seeping into her skin, her frivolity disappeared. From never seeing snow before, to being in the heart of a blizzard, was startling. In the front seat, Gary was leaning forward, straining to see what was ahead of them. Several times he almost collided with a tree or scraped against the wall, but he quickly adjusted and they missed sometimes by a margin too close for comfort. Paul was beginning to feel the incessant chill that was seeping into the hover car through the small cracks in the doors and windows. The cold was something they were unprepared for. They were dressed for a autumn afternoon with long sleeved shirts and jeans. The hover car lurched to a stop. "We're here." Gary said. "Once we get outside, we'll have to get over that wall and into the facility as fast as possible, so I'll tell you what you need to do." He had turned around to face them. "There's a pine tree that sits close to the wall, we'll have to climb that, then once we're high enough, transfer onto the top of the wall. On the other side of the wall, about fifty feet further ahead, follow a set of maintenance stairs to the ground. We should be able to see the facility from there. I'll be the first one over so I'll lead you in. We'll have to get this done quick, so when I say so, throw open your doors and follow me. We can't afford to waste time. Unless you want to become a human-Popsicle." Emily felt her stomach tie around a bulge of nausea. She grabbed the handle on her door and waited. She saw Gary shift in his seat. An ominous look was on his face. Gary took both the guns and stuffed them under his shirt to try and protect them from the freezing temperatures. "Now!" Gary said, as he threw his door open. Paul and Emily followed suit and flung wide their doors. The icy air bit into Emily as she leapt from the car. She almost cried out in surprise, but the wind stole her breath away. It was so cold. The biting wind stung her exposed flesh. Trying to warm up, she hugged herself, but it didn't do too much. The flakes of snow, almost stung when they struck her. The wind howled ferociously. Her fingers were growing numb. "Emily!" She heard her name being called out. It sounded like it was miles away. She looked at the source of the noise, Paul stood no more than four feet from her. His face was red from the cold. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her along towards Gary. Everything was freezing. Everything was white. Gary was standing by a tower of snow. He was shouting something, but they were too far away to hear. The snow was only a few inches deep, not enough to pour into their shoes. It was all so cold. Standing just three feet from Gary, he had to talk loudly to be heard over the unrelenting wind. "We have to climb this tree here. It's pretty easy, just don't loose your footing." He pointed to the tower of snow behind him. Apparently, the storm had blanketed the trunk of the tree with a layer of powder. Gary turned and grabbed a low hanging branch. He pulled himself onto the branch, almost loosing his grip. Then he moved to the trunk of the tree, where the branches would be strongest, and ascended into the foray of needles. Emily followed, then Paul. They knew they had to get inside quickly, but Emily was slowed from a paranoia of loosing her grip, or slipping on the slicked surface and falling to a painful impact. Every time she grabbed a branch, the snow that had collected on its rough surface chilled her hands even more. The icy chill began to seep into her fingers, making them harder to move. The constant pain in her leg, changed from a fire to a dull ache, then to a pulsing numbness. At least the cold was good for one thing. But that scared her a little. If that pain was dulled so soon, how much longer can I last out here? That question rattled through her mind. Gary was close to making the transfer onto the concrete wall. Paul was keeping pace with her, trying not to urge her faster. She was about twelve feet from the ground. Stepping onto another branch, she slipped. Panic shot through her like a knife. Quickly she latched on to the nearest branch to her. Her heart was beating so hard, she thought her ribs would break. Tentatively, she stood up and grabbed the branch above her. Gary was now on top of the wall. The frigid air gusted, shaking the tree. Emily grabbed tighter to the branch she was on. She waited for the gust to subside before continuing her climb. The top of the concrete wall stood a mere four feet from her. But that might as well have been a mile wide chasm. The end of the branch was brushing against the wall, but Emily knew that skinny twig would never hold her weight. She would have to jump from here. The top of the wall was wide enough to remove the danger of jumping too far. She jumped. A sudden gust of wind caught her in mid-air. She seemed to float for a split second. Striking the top of the wall, she impacted awkwardly and landed on her left arm. Some snow flew down her shirt and she gasped in surprise. Gary helped her to her feet just as Paul jumped and landed on the wall. Gary waved his arm as if to say, this way. He turned and walked carefully on the snow covered concrete. On top of the wall, it was far colder than on the ground. With no obstructions to block the uncaring wind, it drove its frozen hands into them with powerful force. Emily's face had gone completely numb, as was the rest of her body. The snow stung her eyes. And the wind bit. The facility was a gray silhouette in the distance. Almost entirely shielded by the flying snow, Emily could not make out its shape. Gary pointed out the steps. They descended rather steeply, but there was a handrail to either side. A small canopy over the stairs had kept most of the snow off them, but there was still a fine layer of the white powder covering the steps. "Don't touch the handrails. Your hand will stick to the metal." Gary shouted over the storm. Well there goes that. Emily thought. Now they had to climb down the stairs without assistance. Gary went down first.  
  
Max sat in his chair watching the screen. But now it wasn't flowing with the boys thoughts. It hadn't moved in quite some time. At first Max thought it was a system error. But after he checked the program and saw that it was still active, he crossed that idea out. Then he thought the boy might have died under the stress of the isolation chamber, but the monitors were still registering life signs. Then he thought he might be dreaming. But he that would not make the thinking stop in the boys head. He would still be thinking something. He could not figure it out. Then one phrase popped on the screen. No more.  
  
8  
  
Despite the protection the canopy provided, the stairs still had a thin layer of white powder on them. The wind was all but quieted on the flight of stairs, making it feel warmer. Not much, but warmer nonetheless. Without the rail to give her balance, Emily thought she was going to fall. But she never did. At the bottom of the steps, the canopy continued for an extra four feet. Gary rubbed his hands together and blew into them. "That gray blob out there is the rear entrance. The security won't be as high there. Run as fast as you can it's going to be damn cold out there since it's just an open field." Emily wanted to say something to show that she understood, but her cold had stolen her voice. So she just nodded. Gary turned and took off, giving no signal that he was going. Emily and Paul followed quickly behind. Immediately Emily knew that it was not going to be easy. The frigid wind slammed into her tossing her hair around her face. Her feet sank five inches into the snow. The icy substance fell into her shoes. Her legs churned, kicking up plumes of white in her wake. The wind gusted. Every step she took, more snow fell into her shoes. Her strength faded quickly. Her legs began to burn. The snow pelted her forcefully. The wind moaned laden with a stream of snow. Slowly the gray blob came into focus. Then suddenly, she was standing right in front of it. The structure came up so fast, Emily almost ran into it, but she was able to stop. She looked around, expecting to see Gary and Paul already standing there, but when she looked back into the storm, she saw to figures running towards her. When she saw them she thought they had fallen, because they were almost covered in snow. But when she looked at her own clothes, she knew that wasn't the case. Snow clung to her shirt and jeans. Emily looked at the door standing between them and Chris, her heart fell to her feet. A ten foot steel frame held a double swinging door in place. She pushed on it. It didn't even budge. She saw no handles on their side so she figured it had to swing inward. Gary walked up beside her. "It's a sliding door." He shouted over the wind. "Well how do we get it open?" Emily said, raising her voice as well. "There's no direct way to get in." Gary said. "I'll have to cross some wires in the control box over there to open the door." Emily felt like punching Gary in the face. They had come this far, and all of their hopes rested on if he can hot wire a door. Gary stepped to the side and located the control box. He opened it after some physical persuasion. The door slid open. Startled, Emily jumped to the side away from the widening gap. "What the hell?!" Gary said. "I didn't do even do anything!" "They must know we're here." Paul said. "If they knew we were here, they would have been all over us like flies on dog shit already." "Well then what opened the door?" Emily said. "I don't know, but I'm not going to turn down an invitation like this." Paul said. "Give me the shotgun." He said to Gary. Gary reached into his shirt and extracted the weapon and handed it to Paul. "Let's just hope that this thing still works." "Give me the pistol." Emily said. Gary handed over the weapon. He felt like kicking himself for leaving his gun in their house. Paul looked warily inside the door. Nothing moved. Only a singular guard with his head buried in a magazine of some sort was the only person anywhere in sight. He was about thirty feet away. Obviously, he was too engrossed in his reading to hear the door open. Stealthily, they slunk into the facility. The door shut behind them. The heat of the facility struck Emily in the face and she nearly cried in joy. She swatted her partially frozen pant legs, knocking some of the snow off. Slowly the feeling returned to her face, then to her hands. Paul and Gary were doing the same, allowing the heat to soak into their freezing bodies as they watched the guard. He didn't make a single movement, other than using his hand to turn the page. They only spent a minute or so warming up. Emily wanted to take her shoes off and warm her feet, but that would make to much noise. Then without warning, the guard looked up. And turned around in his chair. Surprise took control of his face. He started to get out of his chair, making a move for the alarm. But Emily fired and the laser shot caught the guard in the back, just below the neck. Blood spurted as the man fell forward onto the L-shaped desk. His body slowly slid down the marble surface, leaving a crimson trail. "Well, your gun works." Paul said. "Do you think they're going to let us in like at the first gate?" Emily whispered to Gary. "I don't know. The way the guard ran, it looked like he was trying to hit the alarm or get a weapon." Gary was slightly pale. He stared at the red streaks running down the desk with terror-filled, wide eyes. "Well if there's a chance that they know were coming, that throws a wrench into our plans." Paul said. "Then we should get going before anybody comes along and sees that." Emily pointed to the dead guard. "Good idea." Gary said, having difficulty peeling his gaze from the blood stained surface. "That way." Gary directed them down the corridor. The short corridor was the only way in or out of the rear entry. At the end of the corridor, it split into two hallways both extending out of view. Silence clung to the air as tenaciously as a mountain climber clings to a mountain side. Only the hum of the fluorescent lights above broke the quiet. Sidling along wall, Emily glanced up and down the connected hallways quickly. She expected to see a heavily armed guard of some sort come running up one of the paths, but she saw nothing. Not even a wandering janitor. Gary pointed left, so they turned the corner and went left. Watching their backs for a man to step out of a door and bring the guards to them. As Emily walked down the hall, she kept her eyes open for something. She kept her pistol pointed to the floor. Several questions bounced through her head. Where are the guards? Shouldn't the security be higher than this if this is a military facility? Wouldn't there be cameras all over this place? What the hell is going on?  
  
The darkness. Must stop them. They'll hurt them. Darkness. Stop. Death. Darkness. Stop them.  
  
The computer did not move a pixel after 'No more' popped onto the screen. The boys heart was still beating, but his mind seemed to be turned off. "That's it." Max said to himself. "The boy must have done something to the device so it can't read his thoughts anymore." He spoke angrily because he no longer had the foresight of the boy's thoughts. He called the guard at the front entry. It rang. No answer. "Nelson." No answer. "Andrew." No answer. "Anybody." Silence. "What the hell?"  
  
The hallway never seemed to end. The hum of the lights was never broken by approaching footsteps or the sound of a gunshot. With every step, she grew more wary. Sweat poured off her forehead though she was still chilled. Her stomach coiled in nervous anticipation. At any second a guard can come around a corner, or jump out of a room and they would be cut down before they could act. Emily glanced down a conjoining hallway. Nothing. "Turn here." Gary whispered. "There's an elevator around the corner." Turning into the hallway, Emily kept an eye out for something to move. The anger that she felt the night her son was taken away began to burn. Where are these cowards? She asked herself. She felt like shouting, 'Come out here you bastards, so I can blow you fucking heads off!' But she knew they needed to be discreet, and shouting that would be far from being discreet.  
  
The elevator doors slid open. Gary stepped in. Paul signaled for Emily to get in. She backed into the cab; soon after Paul followed. Emily looked at the control pad. None of the buttons were marked. Gary pressed the fourth button in the third column and the cab began to move. "What the hell? Why aren't there any guards?" Paul said to Gary. "I don't know. We should have seen someone by now." Looking at the doors apprehensively, Emily was sure that they would suddenly open and a group of men would be on the other side ready to fill them full of holes. But when the doors finally opened, only a deserted hallway lay beyond the opening. Stepping from the elevator Paul glanced both ways and saw nothing. Emily and Gary stepped out as well when Paul deemed it safe. "The room is right around that corner and down the hall." Gary whispered. A hallway connected to their right about six feet away. Emily walked along the wall and peered around the corner. A man dressed in black was lying on the floor. She gasped and whipped her head back around out of view. "What?" Paul asked softly. "What is it?" "There's someone there." She replied. "Oh, shit." Gary said. "He's lying on the floor." Emily said, confused. "On the floor?" "Yes." "I'll check it out." Paul said as he stepped past Emily and into the hallway. He trained his rifle on the man. The man didn't move, not even a twitch of a finger, or a fluttering of his eyelids which were open wide as if in shock. As Paul grew closer, he could hear him breathing shallowly. Kneeling next to the man, Paul pressed his fingers into the man's neck, checking for a pulse. A strong regular heartbeat. Paul waved his hand in front of the man's face. He didn't blink or even move a muscle. Paul slapped the man across the face. A sharp sound resonated through the hall. The man didn't react at all. Paul turned and waved for Emily and Gary to follow. Hesitantly, they came around the corner. Paul stood and faced Emily. "He's alive, but he's not doing much." Paul said. "What's wrong with him?" Emily said. "Not a clue." "Well, let's not waste time with our thumbs up our ass. Let's move." Emily stepped over the fallen man and continued down the hall. A large steel door with a wheel lock on the front stood at the end of the hallway.  
  
Emily felt the darkness that she felt in the car again. This time it was completely overwhelming. When it struck her, she was nearly knocked over. She could feel it pulsing all around her. Then it was over as suddenly as it hit her. She found herself leaning against the wall, half hunched over. Paul was holding onto her arm saying her name. "Emily.Emily." Breathing heavily she looked up at Paul. Worry creased his face. "I'm alright." She said finally. Gary stood behind them making sure nobody stumbled across them. Since they were in a dead-end hall, only their backs were open. Emily picked up the pistol laying between feet that she dropped when she was inundated by the dark sensation. The door was less than ten feet away.  
  
Max frantically began to call the security guards one by one. "Ivan." Nothing. "Eric." No answer. "Bill!" Static. "TERRANCE!" Nothing. What happened to the guards?! He shouted in his mind, and words seemed to echo between his ears. Nobody was responding. Not even the men in the security room where all the cameras, all the sonic detectors, and all the other mechanized security measures are monitored. He called Morris. "Morris." "Yes?" "Have you seen anything weird lately?" "No. Why?" Max didn't know how to answer the question so he just killed the communication. "What's going on here?" He said to the walls expecting no response. He glanced at the computer screen and saw the two words, no more, and he knew what happened. Even though he did not want to believe it, he knew.  
  
Gary grabbed the wheel and spun it, unlocking the massive door. Then he grabbed the handle. He pulled back. His face contorted as he strained to open the door. The steel gate seemed reluctant to leave its crevice. With a rush of air, Gary pulled the door free and swung it wide.  
  
Max heard the outer door open. He quickly grabbed the pistol on the table and aimed it at the door. It was the parents coming to save their child.  
  
"Chris is just beyond this door?" Emily asked elatedly. "Yes. But he's probably still in the sensory deprivation chamber." Gary said as he unlocked the inner door, and pressed his shoulder against it and lunged forward. The door flung open and Gary spilled into the room. Emily was about to run into the room when she heard gunfire and Gary take a shot in his shoulder. Gary's back slammed against the wall, but he did not fall. A crimson stain began to seep into his shirt. Then another shot, this one tore into Gary's left knee. Blood splattered against the wall. Gary collapsed with a cry of pain. Emily wanted to help him but she knew if she took a step inside the room, the shooter would make target practice of her. She looked at Paul, his face showed that the same torment was running through his mind. "I know you're there. Your son is in here. If you come in I won't kill him." A voice echoed from inside the room. Emily looked at Paul. The look on his face said everything. 'What now?' "How do we know you won't kill him anyway?" Paul shouted into the room. "You have my word." The voice said. "Yeah, but how good is that?" He said quiet enough so that Emily could hear, but not whoever was in the room. "We want to see him." Paul said. No response. Paul repositioned himself so he could see into the room clearly, while making a smaller target of himself. Emily did the same. Paul glanced into the room. A wall of computers was on the far side. The edge of an object stood in the middle of the room. Of what Paul could see, it looked like a sphere sitting on a block. Gary's body lay in the floor he was gripping his knee. Blood oozed between his fingers. A look of pain tortured his face. Paul waited for the man to respond to his request, but he only got silence. "We want to see him." He made the request again. "No." The man gave an answer quickly. "Damn." Paul said under his breath. Reluctantly, Paul said, "I'm coming in." "No." Emily said objecting. Tears began to form in her eyes when she thought she could lose Paul. "It's the only way. I'm going to walk to the far side of the room-" "No." She pleaded. "-and try to attract his attention-" "Please." "-then I want you to shoot that bastard." Paul said. Then he stood. Shouting to the man in the room, "I'm coming in now." Paul raised his hands, with the rifle still in them. Stepping into the room sideways, Paul saw the man. He stood on the other side of the object in the middle of the room, Paul figured that was the sensory deprivation chamber, and his son was inside. He was so close, only seven feet or so, but this man stood in his way; he might as well been thirty miles away. The man aimed right at Paul's head. "Put the gun down." He demanded. Slowly Paul walked as far from the door as possible. "Ok, just stay calm." He shuffled further. "Slowly." Paul began to lower his rifle. Now Emily. He thought. Now! Blow him away. Paul put the rifle far out at his side and slowly lowered it to the floor. Emily leaned out. The man must have seen movement, because he began to turn towards Emily, bring his gun along with him. Emily fired. The light from the laser seemed to fill every corner of the room. The sound of the shot reverberated back and forth from one wall to the other.  
  
No more. No more. No more. No more. No more! NO MORE!  
  
Negative resources. 9484$%88kf#^%&&hg No more! 8dhaav Des..des58%^(3 Destruct. No more. Destruct T- NO MORE minus. Negate countdown. Detonate.  
  
Sitting in the Captain's seat, Morris felt the entire ship rumble. He didn't know why, but he switched on the rear view camera. The Machine behind them was blowing up from the inside. Spires of flame shot through the blackness. "Oh, God." Morris said under his breath. The Machine exploded, taking the Enterprises with it.  
  
On a planet in the middle of nowhere, the final Machine exploded without witness. Except of course for the animals that saw the detonation.  
  
Missed. The shot flew several inches to the right of the man's head. Emily aimed again, but before she could, the man fired at her. She flinched, the shot grazed across her upper arm. She squealed in pain. "No!" Paul shouted. He brought his rifle back up and quickly fired. Since he couldn't get into a good stance, the recoil jarred his entire body. The shot struck the man in his arm. He spun three hundred sixty degrees and slammed into the floor. His gun flew out of his hand. Paul ran over to the gun. He picked it up off the floor. The man was lying on his back. He looked up at Paul in terror. Paul aimed the gun at him. Rage burned inside him; he wanted to make him pay for everything. "Mother fucker." Paul fired. And fired again, again. He emptied the energy reserves in the pistol. The man was a bloody mess. His head was literally disintegrated, only bloody fragments of his skull and mangled masses of brain tissue remained discernable. Emily came running into the room, ignoring the disheveled corpse, and jumped into Paul's arms. Paul kissed her neck and hugged her tightly. Reluctantly, Emily released Paul so he could open the chamber that held Chris. Paul pulled a latch out of place and swung a circular door open. The interior of the thing was pitch black. "Chris." Paul said into the gloom. Something splashed inside. "Daddy!" That single word made Paul almost explode in joy. The boy's head and shoulders appeared out of the darkness.  
  
"Chris!" Emily shouted as she grabbed for Chris and helped him out of the chamber. Once fully out, Emily and Paul hugged him as he hugged them back.  
  
They had Chris back. Gary stood, on his good leg. "Hurry, we need to get out of here, before any guards show up." "No, the guards can't come here." Chris said in a calm voice. "Why?" "Because I made it so they can't hurt anybody anymore." Paul remembered the man he saw in the hallway, still alive, but not moving. Somehow, Chris did that. "If you did it to them, why didn't you do it to the man here." Paul asked. "Because he was too dark, his thoughts were all so dark, I couldn't get close enough, I'm sorry." The boy hung his head. He didn't want to mention the other darkness he felt. It was too scary. Emily was stunned. "Who did you.stop?" "Anybody and anything that could hurt you." Chris said. Chris has shown that no matter how powerful a machine can become, no matter how much damage it can do, no matter how intelligent they become, the human mind is always more powerful than the machine.  
  
9  
  
After Emily and Paul escaped from the facility with their son, the coalition that was to take over the Arm Galactic Empire, exercised the power of the ADIT in a violent overthrow. One of the members, was in the building when Chris was rescued by his parents. He changed his plans and killed the other members. Now he is the totalitarian dictator of the former Arm Galactic Empire.  
  
Watching the snow fall outside his window in his Colorado home, Louis sipped at his drink the Earth people call cocoa. The faded moonlight shone through the window casting a subtle gray light across the floor. The grandfather clock in the far corner of the room clicked, as if it was getting ready to chime. But it was set on the silent setting, so it would not chime at night. Louis knew it was fifteen minutes past one in the morning. He knew he should be sleeping, but he could not. He kept glancing back at Elise sleeping peacefully on their bed. Even in the low light, he could see her swollen stomach. She was eight months into her first pregnancy. He looked back at the downy flakes falling lazily past his window. For some odd reason, his thoughts turned to the Ham family, and how he helped them on that road. He wondered if they got their son back, or died trying. He supposed that question will nag him until the day he dies, because it would be nearly impossible for him to find them, wherever they are. He sipped his cocoa and watched the falling snow.  
  
Sitting in a grassy field Emily laid on her back. A pristine blue sky hung overhead. The air was fresher than she could ever remember. With the city of Pittsburgh on the horizon the view was spectacular. Chris and Helen were chasing each other, playing a game. Paul was sitting next to her reading a book. She never had another vision, or feeling since the blizzard at the ADIT facility. She had never felt so free. She finally knew what it was like to live. For the first time in her life, she wasn't a citizen of an empire, or a soldier, she knew what it was to be human. 


End file.
